


A Great and Terrible Desire

by ruinReborn



Series: Muffin Personnel [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, No Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruinReborn/pseuds/ruinReborn
Summary: An account of the lengths a Mother will go to restore the fractured soul of her dutiful son.
Relationships: Cylva/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)/Original Character(s)
Series: Muffin Personnel [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045479
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Please see the previous installment in this series for a general idea of what to expect from the characters present in this story. Enjoy.

_And the Mothercrystal spake unto the darkness, saying, “What is the greatest desire of thine heart?”_

_The darkness replied, “To consume all, that it is one within me, and I am master over it.”_

_“Thou art motivated by a great and terrible desire. What wouldst thou give in pursuit of it?”_

_The darkness grinned, and said “Everything.”_

_And it came to pass, that the Mothercrystal took everything the darkness was, and it was left bereft of itself and at her mercy. Bound and powerless, it would serve at her pleasure and trouble her no more._

-An excerpt from The Void and Those it Sent, Author Unknown


	2. The Mortal Prerogative

Ugan opened his eyes.

Bright, piss-yellow skies, as far as the eye could see. He was not wont to sleep often - his nature did not demand it of him - but occasionally even he felt the strain of being soul separated from body. As torturously light-aspected as this shard was, it hastened the process of tiring him and, when he found himself beneath the endless day, he usually stopped in his travels to let the darkness of unconsciousness grant solace to his light-blistered eyes. He had thought the bondage of Hydaelyn to be blinding. Foolish of him to think that soft, blue glow compared to the nature of true light.

It was like turning the light off at night, and saying your room was as dark as the Void. The difference in magnitude defied comprehension.

Ugan picked up his staff - jammed into the ground beside him as he slept - and used it to pull himself out of the sitting position he had napped in. Propped up against the strange, white trees that populated Lakeland, his rest had been passably refreshing. He made for the Crystarium, and had some way to go yet. The Exarch had sent word asking for his counsel, and though he found the man’s niceties tiring and demeanor unbearable, Ugan would never return to the first without him. And so, when summoned, he did as he was bid.

Ugan travelled through the day-blasted fields with all the untroubled haste of a man unconcerned about the world around him. In truth, he was undoubtedly the most well protected man currently inhabiting the first. His presence was actively abhorrent to the Sin Eaters that infested the wild areas of the world, and those who dared cross him for infringing upon their sacred light with his unbound darkness soon found themselves consumed. Confident as he was in his own power, he knew from prior experience he would be found lacking if he were to confront the orchestrators of this eternal day. All the more reason to hurry along the summoning.

The sooner the Warrior of Light showed up, the better off they would all be. 

While the top of the Crystal Tower could be seen from most anywhere in Lakeland, it was not until Ugan turned a corner around a bleached cliff face that he caught sight of the majority of it. Even after several months - nearly a year - it was strange seeing something that had so often dominated the horizon of Mor Dhona pierce the heavens of an unfamiliar land. His own eventful trip across the rift was the responsibility of that Allagan monstrosity, and had it not been purpose built to summon powerful Voidsent, he may have shattered the entire structure thanks to the Exarch’s carelessness. Fortune had been on all of their sides, however, and Ugan had come through unharmed.

Along with Thancred, of course.

Ugan had taken his arrival on the First at face value, and had swiftly busied himself preparing the way for the Warrior of Light’s arrival. Thancred had remained - still remained - ill at ease with the Exarch. However, a passion project had recently left the rogue distracted, and with all his time spent casing Eulmore and nose-deep in old tomes, he had spent less and less time being a mopey pain in the arse. A refreshing change, though Ugan could not comment on the healthiness of it. Let the man work himself to death - it would be good to be useful for something. As Thancred’s expertise lay firmly outside of the realm Rift Transference, Physicality Manifestation, Memory Incubation, and general Aetherology, it was not as though he would be of much help with the technical details of the summoning anyway.

Ugan tolerated Thancred more than most mortals, it was true. That was not saying very much, however.

Shortly, he came upon the entrance to the Crystarium - a series of towers and gates that saw the road into the city defended. The guard stood watch, as they did, day by day, and while Ugan did not make a habit of familiarizing himself with the individuals, they recognized him immediately and he was let in without a word. Ugan preferred isolation to company, and so spent little time in the Crystarium. Even so, it was an impressive sight… as far as mortal edifices went. Certainly it spoke, if nothing else, to their stubbornness and unnatural predilection for impracticality. The city had equal parts form and function. In Ugan’s opinion, it was far too indefensible. Perhaps the location the tower showed up in Norvrandt could not have been controlled, but certainly the ramparts built around it could have been.

If it came to it, he knew he would be making up for any deficiencies in the defense, so the slight irked him. Such was his lot, to redress the mistakes of reckless, foolish, stubborn mortals.

Ugan marched stolidly across the wooden terrace that served as the plaza entrance of the Crystarium proper, and into the covered pavilion that housed the aetheryte. Usually, Ugan would have used the network to transport himself here. In this case, however, he had opted to walk - in part because he was close by, and in part because dissolving into aether to traverse the First gave him a headache. It would be a kindness to say he was simply ornery most of the time - he had no desire to parley with the Exarch while his head throbbed. After all-

A sudden commotion drew his attention, and he glanced sharply to his left. The clattering of woodwork carried through the pavilion. Near the entrance to the plaza leading towards the Musica Universalis, a cart had become overturned. A vexed Roegadyn - Galdjent - man was glaring balefully at an Elven woman who had obviously walked into his cart, knocking his wares to the ground. Even as he wound up to undoubtedly beg her pardon, however, she stoically ignored him.

Strangely, she was staring directly at Ugan. Her hair was white - not unlike many of the Scions - and she wore it short and braided. She had an unusual complexion for an Elf, a light, chestnut color in contrast to her people’s usual pale skin. Her eyes were almost perfectly grey, nearly sinking into the whites and reminding him uncomfortably of the intensity of Y’shtola’s gaze. What was more, she had a look on her face like someone had just told her that the world had ended, and that she would soon end with it.

Odd.

Ugan ignored her and carried on his way, just as the Galdjent merchant began his scolding. This distracted the woman from immediately following him, which was probably for the best. Whatever imagined business she had with him, he was uninterested in it.

“W-wait!” Ugan heard her call from behind him, but, as was often the case, he was unmoved, and Hydaelyn was not prompting him with an impression that she needed to be tended to. All the better. Her voice was quickly overtaken by the angry merchant, who was now shouting at her about manners and ignoring him.

Then, a growl of frustration and the sound of fist upon bone. One Ugan knew too well, given the Warrior of Light’s predilection for getting punched in the face. Ugan was not one to ignore mortals visiting violence upon one another, and so turned around to see what had happened with mild interest. To his surprise, the woman had an absolutely venomous look on her face as she glared down at the merchant she had just laid out. He could not make out the man’s expression from here, but from how he lay on the floor, Ugan doubted he was making much of a face at all.

She looked up and locked eyes with him.

He cocked an eyebrow. He would consider his interest piqued… for the time being.

The shout of guardsmen rang out from the pavilion, but the woman was already jogging over to him, her expression becoming more unsure with every step. When finally she stood in front of him, holding his gaze, she seemed… completely lost. Ugan scowled.

“Do you have business with me?” He demanded. She blinked at him, and made to say something, when the guardsman caught up with her. Before she could speak, she was grabbed roughly by the shoulder.

“Oi! You can’t just go assaulting-” The guardsman spared a glance for Ugan, his face a mask of frustration, but then he double took and paled. “Uh… Master Thais.”

Ugan held the guard’s gaze, and said nothing. He visibly swallowed, and took his hand off the woman.

“Did you…” The guard began, and cleared his throat. “Did you see her attack that gentleman…?”

The question was met by baleful silence once more. Ugan felt his lip begin to curl. The guardsman wiped a bit of sweat off his brow.

“R-right, well, uh, I’ll just leave this… to you.” Without another word, he retreated from Ugan’s stare with all the haste of a kicked coeurl.

An idiot and a coward. Truly the Crystarium was in indispensible hands. Ugan turned his attention back to the woman. She seemed… somewhat crestfallen. Subdued, though she still seemed confused.

“Well?” Ugan demanded, insistent. Her continued silence was beginning to irritate him. She pursed her lips, and sighed heavily.

“I… am sorry to have troubled you.” She told him, voice quiet. “I mistook you for someone else.”

“Yes, I’ve been told my looks are very common.” Ugan told her drily. All this for a misunderstanding. He did not know how mortals got anything done with their fleeting lives, if they were constantly getting caught up in ridiculous situations like this. 

“On the contrary, it is your distinctive appearance that caused the mistake.” She explained, not at all perturbed by his sarcasm. In fact, whatever emotion had taken hold of her when she had first seen him had completely fled her features. In its place, there was a sort of bored, angry detachment that Ugan found… familiar. Interesting, even. “Your manners leave no doubt that I am mistaken, however.”

“My doppelganger must be a regular saint.” Ugan responded.

“Much and more.” She agreed, once more ignoring his sarcasm. The flat, unamused look she gave him told him it had not gone unnoticed however. Ugan found it impressive she was holding a conversation with him at all. While he had lacked the notoriety he enjoyed on the Source when he first arrived, he had quickly developed a reputation within the Crystarium as someone whom it was better to leave alone. This, backed by the Exarch’s own endorsement, had caused a swirl of rumors about him, none of which he cared to cull or cultivate. So, either this woman was not familiar with him - and therefore a traveler - or she put no stock in his reputation, which spoke to her fortitude. She nodded, once, and a measure of steel entered her gaze. “My apologies again. I will leave you to your business.”

She turned to leave, and Ugan watched her go, thoughtful. What a strange woman…

He felt the Echo pulse once, and…

_An unfamiliar place, the sound of laughter, a field, maybe. Hills and trees, marble buildings in the middle distance. A boy asked her a question, and she answered, but the words were muted and the sights distorted. A feeling of contentment hung in the air, and she remembered to turn around and call to-_

_-a figure beneath the shade of-_

_-close the book and-_

Ugan opened his eyes, teeth clenched. When he relaxed his jaw, it popped. He had been victim to many an Echo vision since the “gift” had been forced upon him by Hydaelyn. Never before had they been so nonsensical, however. What would cause such interference with memories? And why would he see the past of a stranger, someone he never expected to see again. His vision swam for a moment, but when it cleared, it focused on her. The vision must have only been moments. She had not gone far.

And still no prompting from the Mothercrystal. What was the meaning of this…?

“Hold!” Ugan shouted after her, almost despite himself. He had not the time to unravel this mystery now, but neither would he let it pass from his grasp entirely. She stopped and glanced back at him, inscrutable. “What is your name?”

She seemed to consider this question longer than necessary to formulate a reply.

“Cyella.” She told him, no hint of lie or hesitation in her voice. If she deceived him, she was good at it. “And yours?”

“Ugan Thais.” He replied. Fair was fair, and if she knew who he was, it would serve his purposes when they met again. He could gauge a great deal about a person based upon how they reacted to his reputation. With a name and a description, he could hunt her down anywhere in this light-blasted world. Especially with Thancred’s help.

Only until he figured out what Hydaelyn wanted him to learn from her. Then, she would move on. Such was the prerogative of mortals.

They shared a mutual nod, and turned away from one another. Ugan made for the Ocular.

Unbeknownst to him, Cyella made for the Hunt Board.


	3. The Purpose of Trust

Stepping into the Ocular gave Ugan the same feeling as sticking his hand into a bear trap. Purpose made as the Crystal Tower was to trap enormous quantities of aether - and the beings made out of such - he felt it was an apt description. That the Crystal Exarch had never seen fit to turn the power of the Tower against him, or even threaten him with it, bespoke either total confidence in himself, or total trust in Ugan. Every time Ugan spoke with the strange man, he tried to figure out which it was. As of yet, he had not come to a conclusion.

Speaking of the man, he raised his staff to dispel an image from his mirror - gone too fast to see what it was - and turned to face Ugan with that small, soft smile. Ugan had found it impossible to provoke him, no matter how he needled. In that way, he was similar to the Warrior of Light, albeit far less boisterous and with more than a pair of thoughts in his head to rub together and make a spark. Begrudgingly, he had come to respect the man’s quiet mastery of himself, his power, and his people. He had learned long ago that, for all their folly, the potential of mortals was practically boundless. The Exarch was an example of such.

“My friend, thank you for coming.” The Exarch spoke mildly, his voice nonetheless ringing through the acoustics of the Ocular. “I am more hopeful of our success with your assistance.”

“You’re going to try the summoning again.” Ugan did not ask, as it was fairly obvious. The Exarch only nodded.

“With your assistance, I hope to prevent a repeat of the regrettable mistake that has trapped you here.” As usual, the regret in the Exarch’s voice was genuine. Ugan waved a hand dismissively.

“You could not fathom my rage had you actually succeeded in stealing Berry and leaving me behind.” Ugan strode towards the mirror, and stood beside the Exarch, peering at it. The Exarch had given him leave to investigate the tower as he saw fit, with the caveat that he refrain from entering a room known as the Umbilicus. As such, his study of the masterwork of ancient Allag had proceeded to the point that he understood some of the function, though he had to admit, he would need to spend about as much time as the Exarch undoubtedly had to fully comprehend the thing. Even the master of the Tower had admitted he was not privy to all the functions of the Tower.

“I doubt Thancred shares your adventurous impulse.” The Exarch pointed out, and Ugan glanced down at him. It was sometimes difficult to remember he stood nearly half as tall again as the man. Something in the way he held himself.

“Thancred has found peace with the situation.” Ugan told him, thinking about his last correspondence with the Scion. A girl named Minfillia… Strange and stranger still. “As should you. Your guilt will break your concentration, and the fear of failure weakens your resolve.”

“Well said.” The Exarch remarked. “I pray I can hold myself to your standards.”

“Unlikely.” Ugan told him, not by way of insult, but as a point of fact. “In my opinion, however, we could do with a few more allies.”

“...I cannot willingly endanger the lives of others as I have yours.” The Exarch spoke quietly, firmly. In this, they had often disagreed. When Ugan had learned the mechanics of his summoning, he had suggested they steal away a few other key players as well. Berry would perform better with his closest allies around him.

“They would lay down their lives for him.” Ugan pointed out as though it was obvious… because it was.

“I would not force it upon them.” The Exarch insisted. “We cannot assume their choice for them.”

“But you would force it upon Berry.”

Silence.

“...There is no other way.” The Exarch whispered, his voice fragile. “He… is the only one who…” The Exarch shook his head. “It is for…”

Silence, again. Ugan sighed laboriously.

“Very well.” Ugan capitulated, but he gave the Exarch a hard, sidelong glance. “You will bargain with me, however.”

“...What is the nature of this bargain?” The Exarch asked, curious, his voice once more controlled and even.

“If this summoning fails, you will tell me the full extent of what you know.” The demand was simple enough, and the Exarch did not react to it being laid before him. Ugan folded his arms. “I am not blind to your little deceits, Exarch, and they combine together to form a grand scheme, I am sure.” The Exarch hummed, and he reached his hand out to the mirror, crystal nearly brushing against crystal.

“...How do I know I can trust you?” The Exarch asked, and Ugan frowned. Well. A disappointing but predictable answer to his question.

“Knowing defeats the purpose of trust.” Ugan replied flatly. “Certainty belies it. You will trust me. You haven’t a choice.”

“Always a refreshing perspective.” The Exarch muttered, rueful. “Very well. It will be as you say.” He placed his hand upon the mirror, the butt of his staff tapping against the floor as he did so. “Now, as to the reason I asked for your assistance...” Suddenly, an image began to swirl in the mirror, and shortly, a black-haired Lalafel came into focus upon it. He appeared to be not currently engaged in a task of any import, and the mirror showed that he was speaking animatedly about a topic he clearly enjoyed. Fighting, undoubtedly. The eponymously named Blackberry Muffin, stage-name turned savior, the unwavering strength behind the Eorzean and Doman alliance. Liberator of Ala Mhigo. Slayer of Nidhogg and Titan. The Uncloven, Unbowed, Unbroken. The Warrior of Light.

Ugan clicked his tongue, unimpressed.

“At least he’s alive.” He grumbled. “What do you need me to do?”

“I daresay there are none who boast a deeper familiarity with the Warrior of Light’s aether than you.” The Exarch explained. Ugan hummed, choosing not to accept the obvious compliment. It was true his years of babysitting had left him with unique insight, but he refused to look upon those years fondly. “The Tower is having difficulty sifting through the aether - and therefore, the souls - that swirl around him. With your guidance, we may yet succeed.” Ugan gestured to the Exarch’s right arm, and cocked an eyebrow meaningfully. The Exarch chuckled. “Fear not, you need only rudder the ship. I shall bear the brunt of Crystal Tower’s influence.”

Ugan folded his arms, thoughtful. The Exarch was excited to try something new, and he clearly found himself very clever. He wondered if the doddering old man was tasting imminent success, and so was chomping at the bit to move forward. Did he realize what Ugan was capable of, given this power? If he did, would he expect Ugan to undermine him? Or was this the trust Ugan had just spoken with him about?

Ultimately, it did not matter. The Exarch would not ask if he was sure he could retrieve Berry himself.

“Very well.” He said, and placed his hand firmly against the crystal. Ugan closed his eyes. Very clearly, he pictured Blackberry’s childish, exuberant face. He remembered his determination. His power. All things he had been bound in service to for years. He would do everything in his power to see him victorious.

That had been the arrangement, after all.

Yes, he would do everything in his power. Including deceiving the Exarch.

A jolt shot through his body as he felt the Tower’s aether fill the room. The Exarch grunted, and Ugan felt the energy rush by him and into the body of the smaller man. Ugan dared not direct it, simply placing an impression of his will over the energy, to give the Exarch a direction. A soul. A purpose.

“Throw wide the gates…” The Exarch intoned, a familiar mantra. “Throw wide the gates that we may pass!”

And with the feeling of a great hand closing, the feeling of reaching across a dark abyss of nothingness, and then… Ugan shifted his focus. A different Lalafell, reserved but no less powerful. Key to their success, he was sure. Studious, focused, and unscrupulous. Bearer of the Black. The most powerful thaumaturge since Shattoto. 

“...No!” The Exarch shouted, voice suddenly hoarse, cutting through Ugan’s concentration. “Ugan, no!”

Ugan simply grit his teeth, and slammed his will down upon the summoning. It would complete, even if the backlash tore him apart. Unable to stop it, the Exarch had to choose either to bring those he had grabbed forward, or leave them in the rift.

Obviously, he chose the latter.

Promptly, two motes of light appeared in the center of the Ocular. They took shape, solidified, defined, and then…

Urianger and Honey appeared, and collapsed to the floor, unconscious. And predictably, nude.

Ugan kept his eyes closed, but took his hand off the mirror. He felt the Exarch spin on his heel to stare at the newcomers. Ugan took a deep breath, held it, and then let it go.

“Berry is the Warrior of Light.” Ugan explained, though the Exarch did not look at him. “Without Honey, however, he will fail. She is his strength and his purpose.” Ugan cast his gaze over the unconscious pair, frowning. Urianger he had not been expecting, but he was no less welcome. It was what it was.

“You may have doomed them.” The Exarch breathed, staring at the center of the Ocular.

“We are doomed without them.” Ugan insisted, and strode away from the Exarch. Even at this small distance, he was carefully scrutinizing his abductee’s aether. Like he and Thancred, they had come across as soul and memory, but without body. Unconscious from the trauma of it, but otherwise whole. Good.

He was not looking forward to being berated by Honey, but that small humiliation was nothing compared to having her assistance. And maybe having Urianger around would cheer up Thancred… after he got over the initial rage of his friend being trapped on the First with him.

Ugan crouched next to Honey, and conjured a blanket to cover her. It would not last long, but it would spare her meeting the Exarch in the buff. Then, he sent a jolt of White magic through her, prompting her to wake. She did so with a gasp, but her eyes opened with full clarity. Calculating. She found Ugan’s gaze, and held it. Only then did surprise cross her face.

“Ugan…?” She muttered, furrowing her brow. “But…”

“There is much to discuss, but you must first collect yourself.” Ugan told her. Darkness overtook her features as she glared at him in reproach, and she pushed herself up, shaking her head. She wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself, but seemed otherwise unconcerned with her undressed state.

“I am collected.” She pointed at him. “You’re alive.” There was a small amount of relief in her voice, but her tone was mostly accusatory. Ugan shrugged.

“It takes more than a trip across the rift to end me.” He said, but Honey shook her head.

“You don’t understand.” She gripped Ugan’s arm, her gaze hardening. “That day in Ala Mhigo, at the meeting. We all heard this voice, and then…” Ugan realized, suddenly, that she was staring at him with such intensity because she was trying to ascertain that he was real. “Thancred became comatose. But you… You died, Ugan. On the spot.”

Ugan blinked.

“That’s… odd.” He replied, and looked over at the Exarch. Even mostly obscured by his hood, he could tell that the man had been poleaxed by this revelation. Honey followed Ugan’s gaze, mismatched eyes turning flinty as she caught sight of the stranger.

“...The architect of our woes, I assume?” She muttered.

“And an ally.” Ugan cautioned, though he addressed the Exarch with iron in his voice next. “Well, Exarch. The summoning failed. I would have your explanation.” Honey gave him a quizzical look.

“Failed…?” She asked, and Ugan nodded, directing her gaze afield with a wave of his hand. Beyond the Exarch, Blackberry still dominated the mirror. His face was a mask of pure distress as he cradled something out of view, shaking, he mouthed a single word, over and over. Honey’s gaze softened with sorrow, but it soon froze in ice-cold rage. “An excellent idea.” Honey agreed, no warmth in her voice.

The Exarch stood silently for a single heartbeat, enigmatic and schooled suddenly to emotionless. With a wave of his hand, the image on the mirror vanished. 

“...See to Urianger, I shall make ready the Umbilicus to receive guests.” The Exarch said evenly, and strode towards the door that led to the enigmatic room. Ugan watched him go.

“Is Thancred here too?” Honey asked quietly, anger suddenly fled. Ugan just nodded, and she let out a sigh of relief. “Then let’s see what we can do.” She stood, albeit a little shakily, and strode towards the door as Ugan tended to Urianger. Yes, they would need Honey Muffin for whatever was to come. Woe to the Exarch if he failed to deflect her anger, however, and woe to whatever he deflected her anger to.


	4. The Course of Deception

And so, a tale was spun. In dim light - certainly dim in comparison to the blinding light of the outside sky - The Crystal Exarch told them all a story of tragedy, loss, and calamity. How the Warrior of Light had died, and his companions with him. How naught had been able to stop the ensuing storm of violence that engulfed the world. How civilization collapsed. How all of this could be stopped, if only the First was restored. Near the end of it all, the Exarch removed his hood. Ugan recognized the man only fleetingly - Berry had been closer friends with G’raha Tia than he. He remembered, though, the foolish Sharlayan scholar who had sealed himself in the Crystal Tower. If Ugan had given much thought as to the Exarch’s identity, he may have sussed it out.

As it stood, the revelation was met with muted surprise by his companions. Some of the edge had been taken off of Honey’s anger as the man was revealed to be a once-trusted ally, but Ugan had seen before what she was capable of doing to her allies. Urianger had the look of deep thought about him. He sat upon a sturdy if spartan chair - the only in the Exarch’s control room turned study. Everyone else stood - Honey and the Exarch close by in commiseration, and Ugan, close to the door. As far as he could possibly be and still be in the room. The Exarch had provided the new arrivals with some simple robes to wear, as they had been unwilling to postpone this discussion until more suitable outfits were obtained. 

Urianger was the first to speak.

“We hath much yet to ruminate upon,” he said, folding his arms and placing a hand against his temple. “Though thine designs for the salvation of two worlds yet eludeth us.”

“...Indeed.” The Exarch said. He gestured towards Ugan. “As Ugan can attest, the perpetual day is being maintained by powerful Sin Eaters known as Lightwardens…”

Honey raised an eyebrow up at Ugan, who was standing off to one side, watching the discussion unfold. Preferably, he would have liked to remain out of it. It had little to do with his directive, ultimately. Still, he nodded. “I had a disagreement with one.” He explained. “They call it Phillia, and it plagues Lakeland. While given proper preparation I may have succeeded in slaying it, it caught me wholly unawares. Even so, the Exarch,” he tilted his head in the man’s direction, “bade me retreat before the battle could be decided.”

“The reason I urged caution is a peculiarity of the Lightwarden’s existence, and why none have succeeded in extinguishing them.” The Exarch continued. “When a Lightwarden is slain, the primordial light within them is released. Rather than dissipating, it seeks a suitable host - the nearest living soul.”

“...Thereby perpetuating its own existence through malignant transformation.” Urianger concluded, with a sigh. “Further, as thou seeks to summon the Warrior unto the First, thine must needs have reason to believe the Blessing of Light will shield him from this influence.”

“Just so.” The Exarch agreed. “However…” The Exarch’s staff was leaning off to one side, discarded in good faith while he spoke with those unwillingly called to serve. Free of the implement, it seemed the man did not know what to do with his hands, and rubbed at his crystalline forearm. “I also have reason to believe it will not be enough.”

“If your theory doesn’t hold water from the start, why go through all this trouble?” Honey demanded, equal parts irritated and intrigued. Ugan knew for a fact she would be incapable of resisting the allure of exploring a new world. For all her brusque demeanor and impatience, she was still a scholar at heart… although she was probably a monetarist at soul. Knowledge and profit went hand in hand, as she had once told him.

“The answer, as always, lies with the Tower.” He replied. “In order for the Tower to fulfill its design, the aether of light must first be gathered. At that time, I shall channel the aether from Berry into the Tower, and transport the Tower into the Void.”

Deep in a part of himself long lain dormant, something stirred within Ugan. The Void… Interesting.

“A good plan.” Ugan stated, striding forward. The Exarch was not ready for Ugan’s approach, and so merely succeeded in blanching as Ugan grabbed hold of his crystallized arm by the wrist, and pulled it up into his view. “But you are bound to this Tower. Where it goes, you go. And the Void would destroy you.”

The Exarch just stared up at him, eyes hard and determined.

“...A small sacrifice.” He stated, voice firm. “One man, for the Warrior of Light, and two worlds.” He pulled himself out of Ugan’s grip, and Ugan stepped away, satisfied. As long as he already knew what he had signed up for, he would not fault the Exarch his martyrdom. 

“Berry will never agree to that.” Honey pointed out, folding her arms. Not in disapproval, simply in thought. Ugan knew she was ever the practical one.

“Such is his nature.” The Exarch sighed. “And that is why the final portion of this plan should be kept from him.”

A heavy silence. None in this room were unfamiliar with lying to the Warrior of Light, though Ugan usually did so by omission and Honey rarely did so unless it wAs for his benefit. Urianger had a history of hiding his motives and purposes, thinking himself single handedly capable of dealing with whatever problems may arise from them. Even so, he looked uncomfortable with the idea. Not least of all, Ugan assumed, because it would end in the death of someone Blackberry considered a friend. If, after all was said and done, the truth came to light… Honey would be forgiven, surely. But would Berry ever trust Ugan and Urianger again?

The thought may trouble Urianger. Ugan did not care if Berry trusted him. Such was never a requirement.

“Berry’s not stupid.” Honey said, which drew a derisive snort from Ugan. She glared at him in reproach, as was her wont, but he simply returned her ire with all the placidity of an exhausted mule. “...There are holes in this story. If we are to deceive him, it should at least be complete. If nothing else, it should stand up to Y’shtola’s scrutiny. If we try and bring her into confidence regarding this, she will undoubtedly spill the proverbial beans at the earliest available opportunity, if for no other reason than grand deceptions irk her.”

The Exarch gave Honey a strange look - one Urianger shared.

“Y’shtola is not here.” The Exarch stated plainly.

“Yet.” Ugan cut in. Honey nodded.

“Whether through artifice of fate or design, it is doubtful she would be left behind.” She gave the Exarch a withering look. “Ugan was right to have me summoned. Berry can suffer some few weeks without me - but to attempt to tackle this threat without our companions would be foolish.”

The Exarch closed his eyes, mouth formed in a thin line. Even crystallized and with the weight of ages on his shoulders, Ugan was still struck by how young he looked. And how tired. Even so, Ugan was glad to know Honey shared his position on the matter. They would need the knowledge and might of all their companions to triumph here. G’raha’s guilt be damned - if he wanted to feel bad about trapping heroes on a distant world, he should have come up with a better plan.

“...We shall see what the future holds.” The Exarch murmured, clearly not conceding any ground. Ugan suspected, however, that at the end of it all, Berry would do everything to fight the Exarch’s pull. To the very last - until given any assurance that he should give into it. Try as he might, the wayward Sharlayan and his enormous crystal toy would be hard pressed to overcome the Warrior of Light. “We shall devise the specifics of the narrative later - there is another important matter to discuss first.”

“Ugan’s state upon the source.” Urianger acknowledged gravely. “As scrying hath put proof that mine and Honey’s condition mirrors Thancred’s, it seems only Ugan’s body hath perished due to thine ministrations.”

“An impossibility that defies explanation.” The Exarch insisted, earnest - perhaps desperate. “If Ugan’s body had perished, his soul should have followed suit. That it persists-”

Ugan held up a hand, and glanced down at Honey, who stood silently with her arms folded, thinking.

“You have theories.” Honey said, shaking her head with a small sigh. Ugan simply nodded. “The nature of your binding escapes me. Elucidate us.”

“My body on the source was never anything more than a puppet steered by my will.” Ugan explained, bored. “I had assumed it better made, though it seems without my power to keep it company, it has shirked its duties - those of making me seem a passable mortal.”

“Anyone with half a thought and fifteen minutes in your presence would put truth to that particular lie,” Honey grumbled.

“Certainly explains why Berry never caught on.” Ugan retorted mildly. Honey gave him a flat look, and then kicked him in the shin. This earned nothing more than an uncomfortable grunt from Ugan, but he did not retaliate. Let her vent her frustrations.

“A passable mortal?” The Exarch repeated, ignoring the exchange. Ugan nodded.

“I am a Voidsent.” He explained, holding out his hand. “Bound by Hydaelyn. That my soul retains mortal shape given form is from Her influence. Otherwise, I suspect we may have come to blows had I appeared how I prefer.”

Ugan took a certain smug satisfaction in the completely lost look upon the Exarch’s face, and he suspected Honey did as well. For his part, Urianger hummed in agreement.

“Lest this revelation change thine opinion of our comrade, know that this hath been known to the Scions for some time. Ugan hath proved himself ally time and again, and we reject his assistance at peril of abject failure.” A little long-winded, but perhaps the kindest thing Urianger had ever said about Ugan. “His poor sociability aside.” Ugan grimaced, but fair was fair.

“...That’s quite a revelation.” The Exarch managed to keep his voice calm, but Ugan could almost hear the gears in his head turning. 

“Rest assured, Exarch, I haven’t the ability to interfere with this plan of yours.” Ugan explained, a touch condescending. Well, he was overdue to be smug, at any rate. “While Hydaelyn has provided little by way of direction as of late, her leash is as short as ever.”

“It’s about to be a lot shorter.” Honey quipped. “I can’t imagine the trouble you’ve gotten up to in the short time we’ve been apart.”

“Short for you, maybe.”Ugan retorted. “I’ve been here nearly a full year.”

A beat of silence.

“...Ugan, the meeting at Ala Mhigo was two weeks ago.” Honey said slowly, brow furrowed. Ugan just shrugged.

“It seems time flows differently between Shard and Source.” He concluded. “I haven’t any reason to lie.”

The Crystal Exarch sighed. “Yet another reason I wished to avoid summoning others unduly across the rift.”

Honey stared blankly for a moment, while Urainger shifted uncomfortably. Then, with a loud smack, Honey’s palm collided with her forehead.

“Ugh. And I haven’t a gil to my name.” She growled, dragging her hand down her face slowly. She turned to Ugan, hands on her hips. “How are your funds?” Ugan had, of course, anticipated this line of questioning. His life was easier when Honey’s life was easier, and so he raised his hand, indicating she should take her ease.

“Mercenary work is lucrative. I’ve a nominal amount to set aside for you to use as you see fit, with extra besides with which to outfit yourself.” He explained.

“Please, my friends. There is no need for this. The Crystarium will be perfectly willing-” Honey held up one finger, cutting him off.

“You will recompense me for the inconvenience of this summoning, but I shan’t take your handouts.” She declared. “Now, as we have talked each other to death and resolved upon our course of deception, I think it is high time I go and see this light-blasted world for myself.”

“I am wont to verify our comrade Thancred’s well-being, as well as ascertain his opinion on our circumstance.” Urianger said, by way of agreement. He smiled slightly at the Exarch, a rare thing. “Though I shan't take the good Muffin’s stance of abstinence from thine aid.” The Exarch just nodded, seeming suddenly exhausted. Little surprise there - the summoning itself would be an exhaustive affair, but the man had also been raked over the twin coals of Honey and Ugan.

“Please, see Lyna. She is captain of the guard, and is familiar with Ugan, If he vouches for you, she will do everything in her power to assist you.” Honey glanced at Ugan to confirm this, and he gave her a curt nod.

“She’s of the competent sort.” He told her, frankly.

“Doth mine ears deceive me?” Urianger intoned, eyes flashing with mirth. “More effusive praise I have never heard fall from thine lips, Master Thais.” Ugan scowled at the elezen, who returned it with a placid smile. Ugh. He had forgotten how chummy all the Scions had gotten with him over the course of the combined Doman and Ala Mhigan liberations. At least Thancred had had the decency to begin brooding immediately.

“Enough. You know how he gets when you tease him for being nice.” Honey chided Urianger, who hummed in amusement. Before Ugan could respond to that particular insult, Honey patted his knee. “Take me to this captain. We've got work to do and no time to lose.”

Without a word, Ugan turned on his heel and made for the door. Urianger said something about taking his ease for the moment, and the Exarch agreed that he too needed rest. He and Honey left the Umbilicus behind, though they had only begun exiting the Ocular when Honey began listing things she needed. Her thoughts were immediately interrupted when they stepped outside, however. She squinted up at the sky, betraying no emotion.

“...Is it even possible to ask this of him?” She murmured. Staring at the sky for too long gave Ugan a headache, so he did not follow her gaze.

“Is it possible not to?” Ugan countered. Honey hummed, and gave him a long, thoughtful look.

“We’ll see.” She said, and marched off, towards the plaza. Dutifully, Ugan followed.


	5. Idle Curiosity

They settled upon a story of Urianger being granted a vision while crossing the Rift. This allowed the Exarch to remain a neutral party, who simply wished to see his star saved after stumbling upon the Crystal Tower by accident. To Ugan’s ear it sounded preposterous, but as the days turned into weeks into months and longer, it seemed to have the desired effect. Unsurprisingly, Ugan was not invited to any subsequent summonings, no doubt due in large part to his behavior at the second one. Fair was fair, and Ugan’s purpose was served regardless. Without anything to direct him, the Exarch succeeded only in summoning more of the Scions and Personnel to the First.

Y’shtola followed some months later, accompanied blithely by Kiora. Ever easygoing, Kiora took the change in circumstance at face value and immediately departed the Crystarium in search of monsters against which to test her mettle. Y’shtola, it was obvious, did not trust the Exarch, even from the beginning. This was never more obvious than when she came to Ugan, of all people, for his opinion of the man.

“What could I possibly say to you that would put you at ease?” He had asked of her, and she had agreed that, given their already precarious relationship, there was nothing to be said at all. Still, she had persisted in seeking his perspective.

“You must have an opinion on this. I would hear it.”

“It is simply another burden, Rhul.” He had given her a long look, then. One she always managed to return, unimpressed. “Bear it with grace or grit, but bear it we must.” That, for whatever reason, had seemed to satisfy her, and she had gone away to commiserate with Urianger. Undoubtedly, she would find his company more amenable, though his answers equally frustrating. She was, after all, the singular failure point in their course of deception. Suspicion was natural for Y’shtola, but if she ever truly got wind about what was happening… Well. Blackberry would learn. And if Blackberry knew, there would be none who could convince him the plan was sound.

It was better this way. Berry was too kind for his own good, and that kindness would get them all killed.

Time wore on. Y’shtola quickly became fed up with the secrecy and retreated to the farthest corner of the world she could. Ugan heard after the fact that there had apparently been a rather heated argument between herself, Urianger, and Honey. Backed into a corner, Y’shtola had decided to wash her hands of their secrets and be off. Shortly after, Urianger retreated to Il Mheg, no doubt to nurse the guilt that would be eating at him. Honey spent much of her time abroad - she had found it problematic remaining in the Crystarium where she drew so much attention. Dwarves were a reclusive people on the first, and it was entirely unheard of to see one wandering about without their signature helmets. It was in Honey’s nature to avoid scrutiny, and so it was that Ugan found himself with his primary method of employment: acting as Honey’s face to the outside world.

You could take the monetarist out of Ul’dah, but you could not take Ul’dah out of the monetarist, it seemed.

As usual, Honey’s knack for money making was second to none. Ugan found himself playing the role of transporter, inspector, negotiator and basically anything else Honey needed from him. He had long ago quashed the part of him that balked at being sent on such paltry errands, just as long ago Honey had lost the part of her that derived satisfaction from ordering him around. The light, pervasive and unyielding, exhausted them both, and so there was little needling and little joy. The both of them were just trying to survive, and prepare.

One day, he returned to the Crystarium to find that the Exarch had a message for him. Thancred had returned, and wished to speak. It had been many months since Ugan had last seen or even heard of the man, though he hardly wondered what the topic of conversation would be. Thancred had been obsessing over a singular thing ever since he had learned of it: Minfillia, the Oracle of Light. Held captive, it seemed, in the aristocratic city of Eulmore. Ugan knew little of the place, other than it was a source of frustration for Honey, as she had yet to appeal to the wealthy patrons within. Thancred was a man of schemes at heart, and Ugan could already tell he was about to be pulled into one.

Thancred asked that they meet at the stairs. Ugan went first to the Mean, delivering raw metal for Honey, and proceeded to the Stairs afterward. Given the time of day (what would be considered close to midnight, had there been any night in the last hundred years) there was little in the way of patronage. Conscious patronage, at any rate. Even Glynard, it seemed, had retired for the evening, leaving the stairs in the care of…

Hm. Interesting.

In truth, he had not seen Cyella since their first encounter, though the elven woman had been sequestered in the back of his mind since then. The mystery of her reaction to him, and the subsequent vision granted him by the Echo, was too great for him to forget about entirely. He was only mildly surprised to see her working as a barmaid at the Stairs, as he had believed her temperament to leave something to be desired in that regard. He saw her well before she saw him, as she was cleaning up some impeccably maintained corner of the eatery, and so Ugan contented himself with taking up a chair on the far side of the Stairs, both to watch her and wait for Thancred. She noticed him before long, however, and when she did, she froze.

That same look as before. Pained, and shocked. She quickly masked it - more quickly than last time, to be sure. What was that about…?

Whatever the reason, she approached with all the brusqueness expected of wait staff managing a tavern in the middle of the… day.

“Is there anything I can get you?” She asked simply, perfectly tailored to her role and without reservation. She seemed not at all nervous, despite the fact that Ugan had stared hard at her while she crossed the entirety of the bar. Her lack of discomfiture at his gaze marked her as made of sterner stuff than most mortals, that was certain. But why?

“I’ve a friend coming who is partial to whiskey, if you have it.” Ugan palmed a handful of gil onto the table, to indicate that the request was made with payment in mind. “Though I hadn’t thought a woman who could lay a grown man low with a single blow would deign to work as a barmaid.” She gave him a sly sort of smirk at the remark, and scooped up the gil.

“I hadn’t thought to leave such an impression.” She replied. “I’ll be back in a moment with the bottle.” Ugan leaned an elbow on the table, covering his mouth with one hand and watching her as she left. She wore a simple enough smock, serviceable and easy to wash. Beneath it, however, were signs of buckles and leather. Sturdy, serviceable boots that disappeared into her skirt. Pragmatic and versatile. Someone who was used to conflict, but perhaps had been far removed from it for a long time. And yet, she seemed young. Relatively young, at any rate. Certainly no older than thirty summers.

As promised, she returned with the whiskey, setting two glasses on the table along with the bottle. She met Ugan’s eye as she placed the glasses, and frowned. 

“It’s impolite to stare.” She pointed out, dropping a pair of ice cubes in each glass from a bucket she slung over one elbow.

“If it bothers you, then stop me.” Ugan challenged idly, which earned him a flat look. 

“And what is it about me that fascinates you so?” Cyella asked, straightening and balancing the bucket on her hip. Her look was hard, but unconcerned. Cautious and unafraid. 

“I could ask the same of you.” Ugan said. “Every time you lay eyes upon me, you look as if I’ve struck you.”

“As I mentioned previously, you look… uncannily like someone I used to know.” She looked away, finally, though Ugan saw her jaw flex with some raw emotion. “But he has been gone for a long time.”

“Dead?” Ugan asked bluntly, leaning back in his chair. Cyella nodded once, her face a practiced mask of emotionlessness. “It is the way of things.” He murmured, some form of condolence. “He must have meant a great deal to you, for you to react so strongly.”

“It is no concern of yours what he meant to me.” Cyella replied frostily, and Ugan held up one hand in mock surrender. 

“Keep your counsel, then. Just idle curiosity.” Ugan reached for the bottle of whiskey, and popped the cork off with one hand. He filled the glass opposite the table from him, and set the bottle down. Thancred would undoubtedly appreciate the thought, and it behooved Ugan to keep the surly scion in a good mood, lest he be forced to bear the brunt of his moping. 

“Word is you’re a man of many curiosities, none of them idle.” Cyella remarked, hand on her hip. “The mysterious ‘Master Thais’, friend of the Exarch, slayer of Eaters and the surliest Sinner in Norvrandt.” Ugan raised an eyebrow at her dramatic - if apt - description. As a barmaid, she would undoubtedly be familiar with all the Crystarium’s most recent rumors, so it surprised him little that she had heard of him. People talked - mortals especially. They liked their stories. Ugan nodded at Cyella, but made no comment, and she continued. “Your magical prowess is noteworthy, and it is said even the Exarch seeks your advice regarding the mystical arts.”

Not any longer, Ugan thought to himself.

“Your point?” He said, levelling an unimpressed stare. Her flattery, while welcome, was beginning to sound sardonic. It would be best if she moved along. In response, she reached into one of the voluminous pockets of her apron and produced a rolled up handbill, placing it in front of him.

“A bounty, for a Sin Eater known as Phronesis.” Cyella explained. “Said to wander Ahm Araeng in the guise of the cursed Warrior of Light, Nyelbert. They’re calling him a Cardinal Virtue. A man named Cerigg seeks one knowledgeable of magic to help him lay the fiend low.” With furrowed brow, Ugan picked up the handbill and began unrolling it. Nyelbert… Naillebert? The so-called Warrior of Darkness? As he recalled, they had come from the First by some Ascian scheme, and from what Berry had told him, they had returned to do… something. Whatever it was, it had clearly not been enough. Or perhaps, it had just barely been enough. And now he wandered as some sort of monstrosity. Fascinating.

Ugan paused as he read the sum of the bounty.

“...What does this Cerigg need with a mage?” Ugan asked.

“Phronesis is prone to summoning ‘hollows’. Inky black orbs of darkness that consume everything they touch. My understanding is that he hasn’t the background to circumvent such an obstacle.” Cyella explained, and Ugan found his interest officially piqued. These “hollows” sounded distinctly like Void magic, and while Ugan was undoubtedly the single most qualified person on the shard to investigate this phenomenon, it doubled as research on his part. With luck, he could use the hollows to find a way to break Hydaelyn’s cursed hold over him - although it was a long hope. The Mothercrystal had a habit of forcibly turning him away from avenues of freedom, as she had at the Void Ark.

“And your stake in this?” Ugan asked, rolling the handbill back up. Cyella just shrugged.

“Cerigg gave me a few gil, and asked me to spread the word to anyone noteworthy.” 

“Consider the message spread.” Ugan pocketed the handbill. “I trust I can find Cerigg here, at a more normal time of day?”

“He’s a regular.” Cyella confirmed. “Blonde man, large bow, likes to drink.” Ugan nodded.

“I’ll seek him out.” Ugan gestured to the glass of whiskey with the swiftly melting ice. “Though present matters may take me away for some time.”

“If I see him, I’ll let him know you’re interested.” Cyella offered, and Ugan nodded again. This was turning out to be far more interesting an exchange than he could have hoped, though he wondered if anything worthwhile would actually come of it. Still, it was a pleasant change of pace to speak with a mortal that was not only able to have a conversation with him without stuttering, but that also had something noteworthy to talk about.

Such conversations could be had with the Scion’s on occasion, but it was a mixed bag. 

“I’ll leave you to your business…” Cyella demurred, though she gave him a conspiratorial smirk as she glanced at the glass. “Assuming this ‘friend’ of yours hasn’t stood you up?”

“He has a penchant for tardiness.” Ugan replied, not rising to the bait of the implication. Never had he been free from the rumors of romantic involvement with various individuals on the Source - it only stood to reason such practice would continue on the First. He would do nothing to facilitate it, however. The only thing more tiring than the rumors were actual romantic advances, which he had been subject to a handful of times. Fortunately, a few venomous words sent any would-be suitors packing, though he had been fortunate that none of them had been people he worked closely with.

He had made sure Alisaie had been present when he dressed down one of them. She was an intelligent girl, and it would disappoint him to no end if she let something as silly as feelings get in the way of her quest for mastery of the mystical. Fortunately, it seemed she had gotten the hint, as she never acted on the sidelong glances and long stares that she undoubtedly believed were subtle.

Unbidden, he wondered how she had handled the news of his apparent death. It was a strange thing to wonder - she would overcome it, or not - but it held his morbid curiosity for a moment before he banished the thought.

Lost in thought, he had not noticed Cyella leave him. He blinked once, and glanced around, catching sight of her tending to some dishes at the bar, once more ignoring him. It seemed he would not be quit of the Stairs after tonight, and so would have an opportunity to observe her further while working with Cerigg. Strange, though. They had had an entire conversation, and not once had…

He felt the Echo pulse once, and…

_“What do you make of this?” Cyella asked the empty air. She was using some sort of communication device, though the voice that came back was staticy and distant. She was holding some sort of crystal, spindles of purple energy snaking out of it. “I’ve never heard of an auracite like this…”_

_The voice again, impossible to hear._

_“Fair enough, I’ll continue on my own. Let me know what you find out.” The device cut off, and Cyella began to look around. “Arrogant bastard…” She muttered, both sincere and fond. She fetched a book from her pack, and opened it to a page-_

_-flipping through it reminded-_

_-when they had first found-_

When Ugan came out of the vision, Thancred was seated at the table, giving him a dubious look.

“Echo?” He asked simply. Ugan nodded. “Anything I should know about?” Ugan shook his head, and Thancred just shrugged. “Fair enough, and thanks for coming. I know you needn’t the sleep, but the hour is inconvenient, I’m sure.”

“Not as inconvenient as whatever you’re about to propose is going to be.” Ugan pointed out, and folded his hands on the table. Thancred gave Ugan a rueful smile.

“True enough.” Thancred sobered up. “I’ll put it simply, then: I’d like to infiltrate Eulmore. I’ve already done all the footwork, but there’s some wards I can’t bypass.” He waved his hand irritably, no doubt indicating his inability to channel aether. “I’d like your help.”

“You’ll have it.” Ugan agreed immediately. “Knowing you, you’ll want to leave at first light but…” Ugan waved at the sky. “We can resolve instead to leave in whatever passes for morning.”

“The sooner the better.” Thancred said, and gave him a strange look. “I had thought I’d need to do some more convincing, truth be told.”

“Whoever this Oracle of Light is, she will do more for us free than caged.” Ugan pointed out, and Thancred simply hummed at the logic of it. Ugan pointed a finger at him, and levelled his gaze. “I would temper your expectations, however. I know how personal this is for you.”

“Let it not be said that you can doubt my determination, then.” Thancred replied, meeting Ugan’s gaze with steel behind his eyes. Ugan had known Thancred for almost as long as he had been on the Source, and had found his carefree demeanor and reckless attitude both useful and annoying. It surprised him not at all when he found himself possessed by Lahabrea, and, had it not been for Berry’s intervention, he surely would have perished there. Since then, he had been subjected to one trauma after another. The trials had hardened him. Bent him. But they had not broken him.

Ugan wondered if whatever they found in Eulmore would prove the steel he had forged himself into brittle, or tempered.

“Good. Tell me the plan, then.”

It would be some hours yet before they departed. They would rest nominally before they set out, as it was unlikely they would get much more until they were free of Eulmore. As for the Echo vision... There would be time enough to ponder the mystery that was Cyella later. There were more pressing matters at hand.


	6. The Oracle

While Ugan had not expected much resistance from the Eulmoran guard, the laxness of the security was laughable. Perhaps they had been too comfortable in their peaceful manse for too long. As the rumors went, the lord of this place was able to control Sin eaters, and so the city was entirely free from the threat of attack. This, paired with the fact that the city was garrisoned by a military only matched by the Crystarium - though this was only speculation - certainly lent Eulmore to an air of complacency. To hear Thancred speak of it, the only points of concern were the general of the Eulmoran army - a fearsome man named Ran’jit - and any Sin Eaters that Lord Vauthry decided to send after them if they were discovered. As it so happened, Thancred’s plan was to be enacted when Ran’jit was away from Eulmore, so that was one obstacle down.

Ugan had seen to his preparations in private - mostly meditation and the aetheric calibration of his armament. When Thancred had come to fetch him, the man was sporting a heavy coat over a thick breastplate. Several cartridges lined the tails of the coat, and a gunblade was strapped to his back. Ugan raised his eyebrow at the attire, and it had earned him a shrug and an explanation about the nature of his armament and the need for less finesse and more protection. Ugan had only ever seen a Bozjan gunblade through academic diagrams, and found the weapon to be interesting in execution but overly complex in practice.

Thancred had a penchant for flashiness, however, so perhaps it suited him.

A short time later, they set out.

There was no night to hide their approach, and so they opted for a path unlikely to be watched - that of the sea. The water around Eulmore was treacherous with stone and scuttle, but they only needed to get close enough to wade ashore. A derelict shantytown had been set up on the rocks at the base of the spired city, and so they made sure to avoid detection by the people living there. Ugan had not any idea why they were holed up in squalor down here, but mortals often accepted the skeins of their fate without thinking. He certainly was not here to save them from themselves. 

As they skirted the shacks, Thancred indicated an entrance to the city proper, carved into the stone. Beyond, he could make out stairs. Lovely. Two guards stood at attention, though it seemed they were mostly concerned with the comings and goings of the poor rather than any threat of attack. Thancred had indicated they should infiltrate as peaceably as possible. He had no desire to start a war between the Crystarium and Eulmore in the event they were captured and identified as personal friends of the Exarch. With a murmured spell and a wave of his staff, Ugan put the guards to sleep, and they stole into Eulmore proper.

The lower levels of the place certainly had the feel of a dungeon. It was all austere, white stone, chains, and grated doors. Fortunately, it was also sparsely populated. Ugan was no stranger to infiltration missions, and for Thancred they were second nature. The two of them moved through the shadows - such a strange sensation, given how bathed in light the world was - and Ugan was careful to follow Thancred’s lead, as he had clearly already chosen a path. Eventually, they came to a door. One that looked much like many of the other doors they had passed. To Ugan’s trained aetheric sense, however, he could feel the portal brimming with warding magic. Thancred indicated the door silently, and took up a position to keep watch. Ugan stood before the door, planted his feet, and held his staff forward. Then, he released it, and it floated in place. The dual ochre and diamond focus began to rotate as he threw his arms wide, before bringing his hands over the focus to concentrate the aether.

A few tense moments passed as Ugan examined the wards.

“...I can dispel these quietly, or I can dispel these quickly.” Ugan whispered.

“How long?” Thancred asked, without looking away from their flank.

“An hour, maybe more.” Ugan replied.

A beat of silence.

“Quickly, then.” Thancred insisted. Without a word, Ugan snatched up his staff, reared back and, channeling a great deal of aether into it, directed a blast of force at the door interlaced with aether nullifying White magic. A hammer for a situation that called for a lockpick, but it would serve. Predictably, the door buckled beneath the onslaught, and the sound of it splintering echoed throughout the lower levels. Without waiting, Thancred immediately kicked down what remained of the mangled mass of wood and iron and rushed inside. Ugan stood some distance behind, but peered within regardless.

As far as cages went, this one was certainly gilded. In fact, were it not for the total lack of windows and heavily locked door, it may even be a pleasant place to live. It was extravagantly furnished, well maintained, and stocked with bowls and pitchers chilled by ice crystals and filled with various delicacies. It looked dreadfully comfortable, and, more importantly, terribly boring. 

Ugan’s gaze did not linger on the decor for long, however. Thancred had seized up almost as soon he had entered, and it was clear why. There she stood. The Oracle of Light. Minfilia… And yet, distinctly not Minfilia. The resemblance was uncanny, but not exact, though she matched the lost woman in color of eye and hair. It was clear upon even brief examination that this was a different person… though she still held herself with an air of calm that had always struck Ugan as strange when thinking about the missing Antecedent. She seemed only mildly surprised that two men had burst into her abode, and not at all afraid. She watched them with curiosity and perhaps… excitement?

“Minfilia…?” Thancred breathed. Ugan barely heard it. The girl nodded, furrowing her brow.

“I am. And you are…?” She asked. Ugan suppressed a wince. He could not see Thancred’s face from where he stood, but he could imagine it well enough. The man would have strength enough to school it neutral immediately. Ugan was proven right when Thancred responded quickly.

“Your ticket to freedom, if you’re so inclined.” Thancred said, and held out his hand. Minfilia hesitated.

“If I leave, they’ll know.” She warned them. “They won’t hurt me, but…”

“We’ll handle whatever they send after us.” Thancred reassured her. Shortly, the sounds of shouting began echoing down from above, and Ugan glanced up the spiraling stairs to see Eulmoran guards pointing at him. “But we must go now.” Thancred insisted.

With a flourish of his staff, Ugan sent a roaring fireball careening upwards towards the guards. It exploded against stone, sending the guards diving for cover. He turned his attention back to the girl and Thancred, scowling. 

“We need to go.” Ugan growled, and for the first time, the girl looked at him. And she stared, and her stare was thoughtful for a single heartbeat, then two.

“Alright.” She conceded, determination settling into her feature as she took Thancred’s proffered hand. Shortly, they were off, running back the way they came. Ugan brought up the rear as Thancred and Minfilia darted ahead. It was not long before they found themselves face to face with a platoon of Eulmorans, blocking their exit. Thancred began to curse, but stopped himself while he whirled to address Ugan. 

“Cover us!” He shouted, and darted back up the stairs. Ugan let him past, and then planted himself firmly in front of the purple-clad soldiers, raising his staff. They wielded pikes and little else, so it would be difficult for them to surround him on the narrow stairs.

“Surrender at once!” One of the guards in front cried. Ugan just smirked, and bade the guard forward with one hand. Incensed, the man began to charge. Immediately, Ugan swung his arm and held his staff high, ice magic flowing from him in a torrent. It swiftly froze the stairs the guard was charging up, and the stairs beneath the feet of his comrades. A misstep sent the unfortunate man into a tumble, and like dominos, his fellows began cascading down the stairs as all of them lost their footing.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Ugan sprinted after Thancred and Minfilia. Slick floors should keep the bumbling guardsman from interfering further - at least for a time. As Ugan ran up the stairs and heard the sound of a distant explosion, followed by roaring and several cacophoanous booms, he had the sudden irritating feeling that they had run into more trouble than just a few inept men with pikes.

He turned the corner into a large room that seemed to function as some sort of amphitheater or ballroom, though that function had largely been rendered obsolete by the hole in the ceiling. An enormous, porcelain-white winged lion occupied one half of the room, roaring in pain and rage. Obviously, it was some kind of Sin Eater. Ugan wondered if it was a Lightwarden… but no, it was wounded - one wing clipped. Thancred stood before it, gunblade drawn. Not to doubt the Scion’s ability, but standing toe-to-toe with a Lightwarden had been a trial for Ugan. This was a powerful Eater, to be sure, but no Lightwarden.

Minfilia hid half behind a pillar, watching the battle anxiously. Ugan strode past her purposefully, watching as Thancred dodged the creature’s jaws. The gunblade came up to parry a swipe from the lion, the sound of stone grating against metal. An explosion followed immediately as Thancred fired the gunblade, sending the creature staggering back. Ugan raised his staff, seeing an opportunity.

“Stand back.” He ordered the girl, who started at the sound of his voice. Still, she took more complete cover behind the pillar. Obedient. A useful trait in Hydaelyn’s chosen. Ugan grit his teeth, raised his staff high, and began channeling aether from his hand into the focus. “Watch yourself!” He shouted for Thancred’s sake. Thancred immediately leapt backwards away from his adversary, who made to pursue with a guttural roar…

Which was promptly cut short by a pinpoint of light, that blossomed into a catastrophic explosion. Thancred fired his gunblade again, a shield projecting forward and protecting him from the blast. The lion was not so lucky, as it was hurled bodily into the far wall with such force that it exploded outwards, leaving a crumbling hole in its wake. Light poured into the room from the outside.

“Ugan!” Thancred shouted, gesturing to the hole. A vague command, but he understood it well enough. 

“Go to him.” Ugan ordered the girl, and ran towards the hole. Gazing out into the open air, he was perturbed to find that the Eater was not dashed on the jagged rocks in the sea below. In fact, it was nowhere to be seen. A problem for another time. Thancred and Minfilia shortly trotted up behind him. Ugan quickly wove a spell to slow their descent, and, with a single nod at Thancred, leapt from the building.

After the excitement of the past few moments, floating gently to the bleached and broken shores of Kholusia seemed anticlimactic. Minfilia cried out as Thancred scooped her up and leapt, but by the time they had reached the ground, she was actually giggling. Even Thancred wore a lopsided smile.

“Good work.” He told Ugan, setting Minfilia on her own two feet. Ugan was busy squinting into the sky, looking for any signs of the Eater they had done battle with. 

“We’re not free yet.” He muttered. “Are we headed to the Crystarium, or elsewhere?” Thancred opened his mouth to respond, face suddenly stern, but the girl piped up first.

“I’ve never been to the Crystarium.” She said, and it was said innocently, with no thought of political repercussion, or expedience, or even pragmatism. Just curiosity. Ugan frowned, and it seemed as though Thancred was at a loss as well. She just stared at the both of them… hopeful.

“...The Crystarium it is.” Thancred conceded. “Let’s put some distance between us and this place.”

-

On their return trip, Ugan left it to Thancred to explain to the girl who they were and why they had rescued her. Thancred explained that he thought it was a shame they had caged her, and espoused her capability for good, had told her of his hopes for her and her future… In fact, he said everything except who Minfilia had been to him. It was a topic only notable for its absence and, the current Minfilia, not knowing it was gone, never noticed. Ugan did not have the patience or the inclination to call Thancred out on his deflecting, so he was happy to leave well enough alone.

After escaping Eulmore on foot, they had made for the far coast of Kholusia, where they had stowed the sturdier sailboat upon which they had crossed the strait to Kholusia in the first place. Having spent a great deal of time in Ul’dah while on the source, Ugan was mostly useless for the purpose of directing the boat. Fortunately, Thancred was a deft hand at it, and so Ugan left the sailing to him. Ugan was set to enjoy the rest of the journey in silence.

Or he would have liked to, at any rate. As it turned out, the girl was not content to leave him alone, and no matter how many stern looks he gave her, it seemed her curiosity would not be sated. Thancred did an able job of fielding her questions, but even the most monosybillic of Ugan’s responses prompted further inquiry. He wondered if this was perhaps a side effect of the excitement of her rescue, or perhaps she was stifling her fear of the unknown with inane chatter. Either way, Ugan was fit to lash out in anger - Thancred’s fragile protectiveness of the girl be damned - when she finally said something that Ugan took half an interest in.

“Are you the Warrior of Darkness?” She asked, voie strangely hushed but obvious in its excitement. Thancred gave Ugan a look of warning, though even he seemed to be confused. The sailboat rocked gently in the preternaturally still waves of the sea as Ugan frowned at Thancred’s young charge.

“...What is that?” Ugan asked. Minfilia went on to relate a sort of folk legend popular in Norvrandt about a mythical person who would bring night back to the world and shepherd the souls of the dead to their final rest. Poetic, if trite. “Why would you think I am this person?” Ugan put the question to her, and her face turned serious and her eyes… introspective. She looks through him, though it still feels as though she is looking at him.

“There is… a great darkness within you. Great and terrible.” Minfilia whispered, brow furrowing. She meets Ugan’s eye with a small smile, relaxing. “But you are blessed by the Mothercrystal. One of her chosen. I thought…” She trailed off, and Ugan met Thancred’s eye briefly over her head. His look is perplexing, at once warning and soft. Wordlessly, he seems to bid Ugan neither to lie nor tell the truth. Walk the line.

Ugan was familiar with this.

“I am what I am.” He replied, simply. “What claims others make of me are not my concern.”

“Hydaelyn told me to trust you.” Minfilia said, looking between her two travelling companions. “Both of you, but, you… She told me to be unafraid.” She put a hand on her chest, and looked away. “I’m not afraid, though… Should I be?”

The sound of still waves lapping against the hull punctuated the silence. Thancred broke it, clearing his throat.

“You haven’t anything to fear from Ugan, though I’d advise against pestering him overmuch - he tends to be ornery.” Thancred flashed Minfilia a grin, even as Ugan glared at him flatly over the child’s head. “A more stoic and dependable companion you couldn’t ask for. Skilled, too. If you’re keen, he’s been known to teach people a thing or two about battle magic.”

“I’ve been free of Alisaie for two years.” Ugan grunted in response to the curious glint in Minfilia’s eye. “I needn’t another young woman beneath my heels.” Perhaps sensing Ugan’s reluctance to pursue the topic, or maybe just latching onto another point of conversation, Minfilia tilted her head and turned to Thancred, who was busy adjusting the sail.

“Alisaie…?” She asked, and Thancred began telling her about the various Scions with a nod. Fortunately, there was a lot to talk about in that regard, and so Ugan was thankfully left alone with his thoughts.

The Warrior of Darkness… what a strange notion. He had never heard a story like it.

Then why did it sound so familiar?


	7. The Dark One

Time wore on. The ceaseless day drove Ugan near to madness, and he took what respite he could from the glare. Far be it from him to hole up in his room in the pendants with six sets of curtains drawn, however. He had endured the timeless dark for millenia - a few short years in the blasted light was nothing.

Even so, he found himself constantly out of sorts. 

Still, he soldiered on. There was work to be done, and he was the one to do it. Not that he was alone in most of his endeavors. He often found himself crossing paths with Kiora, who, despite her boisterousness, was also sporting a beleaguered disposition. The hyuran woman had heretofore enjoyed strict adherence to a training regimen that included precise sleeping habits. Those sleeping habits had been disrupted by the ever present day - a mortal’s diurnal curse. Still, she fought like a rabid beast uncaged. It was good to have one of the less bossy Personnel around. Ugan felt he could relax the constant state of paranoid vigilance he had maintained during his time in the first while she was present.

Kiora told him of a budding partnership with a Eulmoran brat. Something about hunting another Cardinal Virtue. Ugan was reminded of the handbill Cyella had given him, and resolved to return to the Crystarium to investigate further, if time allowed. As it was, Honey was in the process of attempting to organize a formal adventurer’s guild on the First, though she was being met with limited success. Many mercenaries had been too independent for too long, and several fierce rivalries proved a hindrance to a true coalition.

Honey admitted to Ugan that it would likely take a unifying force to convince these people to work together. Either an existential threat… or a great hero. She would lay the groundwork, but her schemes would undoubtedly rely on Berry’s fame upon arrival.

Ugan shortly found himself out of her service for an extended period of time, but not before he was tasked with delivering a message to Urianger in Il Mheg. Missives into and out of that land had a habit of disappearing, and while Ugan knew the Exarch had a personal pixie friend that he used to communicate with Urianger, Honey was loath to trust them. That left Ugan as her last recourse, and the missive contained sensitive information regarding their plan, at any rate. Lest they risk exposing a century-kept secret, it was best if it reached Urianger in trusted hands.

Ugan had heard stories of Il Mheg, of course. Fae trickery, pique, and guile. He expected to run afoul of some prank or another at least once. While it did seem for a time that he was surrounded by an impenetrable fog, he recognized illusory magicks when he saw them. The spell was powerful, but the dim, cool protection from the eternal light was… soothing. Rather than hunt down the bearers of this mischief, he opted to stop his pointless wanderings, and meditate.

Undoubtedly, the pixies would grow bored before he would.

His assumption was correct, though he underestimated their fortitude. It was some days before his cross-legged, calm form inspired any sort of ire from the pixies. Frustrated by his lack of frustration, they sought to up the ante. He had stumbled on a few of the green men, and recognized the powerful enchantments that had turned the poor souls into unfeeling shrubbery. In what the pixies believed was secret, they attempted to work the same magic on him.

Foolish.

They would need to lay hands on him for the enchantment to take effect, and Ugan’s finely honed aetheric senses ensured they would not get close. He did allow them to approach, though.

“I would not get closer.” Ugan spake into the empty air, and there was a heartbeat of silence before a flurry of whispers too quiet for Ugan to understand began to float around him.

“It speaks!” One finally said loud enough for Ugan to hear, though the tone was still conspiratorial. He recognized that they were speaking a language he had never heard before, but for a small mercy, the Echo actually proved useful for something in this context. “I had almost mistaken it for a statue.” The voice tittered and flitted about him. “If you sat still any long, a bird would have surely nested in your hair!”

“Your game is played, fae.” Ugan said, ignoring the needling. “Desist.”

“Ooh, such big, scary words from the big scary man.” The pixie was inching closer, Ugan could sense it. The ringleader, it seemed. “But you’re the one trapped in the fog!”

“I haven’t a quarrel with you, unless you detain me further.” Ugan growled. “I am ‘trapped’ only by virtue of my own restraint. Release me, before I release myself.”

“Methinks your threats are idle.” The voice said in singsong.

Ugan sighed, and picked up his staff from where it lay beside him. He jammed it into the ground in front of him, and it was then that his erstwhile prankster decided to flit forward and strike.

Ugan’s hand shot out and grabbed the invisible pixe by the throat. They had a strangled sound of surprise as Ugan opened his eyes and glared directly at them. He could not see them, but he knew approximately where to direct his irate gaze. Pixie in hand, the others began muttering to each other in a panic. Ugan ignored them, and tightened his hand around the one he had caught.

The other hand, he raised to his stave’s focus.

“Let lie become truth.” Ugan intoned, draining the pixie’s aether. Formal incantations were not strictly necessary when casting spells, unless they had a ritualized purpose or otherwise needed a boost in potency. “Let power become moot.” The enchantments were powerful though, and so Ugan was unsure if he would be able to break them otherwise. So: Formal incantations, a source of aether, and a material focus. The only thing that would serve him better was if he had the assistance of fellow spellcasters. “Render all as it is, return all to what was!”

He discarded the weakened pixie before he drained it completely. By this point, it had been rendered visible, and it fell to the ground with an aggrieved grunt. Replete with aether, Ugan stood, snatched his staff out of the ground with a flourish, and raised it into the air.

“Dispel!” He shouted. 

A wave of energy rippled away from him, blasting away the fog and the invisibility enchantments of the pixies simultaneously. The force of it even knocked a few of the fae to the ground.

Hm. That may have overdone it.

Ugan squinted into the newly lit meadow, saturated with the eternal light of day. It was sickeningly bright and colorful, and the air seemed to fairly gleam with starbursts of light, fae dust catching the perpetual brightness and shimmering in the air. How idyllic.

In various states of disarray around him, the pixies stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked.

“A creature… of darkness.” The weakened one on the ground muttered. Ugan glanced down at it.

“I will not tolerate foolishness of this sort so mercifully a second time.” Ugan turned his back on the fae, leaving them whispering in his wake. Demon. Voidsent. Blackhearted monster.

He allowed himself a wolfish grin. Good. They would not soon forget his nature, if nothing else.

Shortly, he put the encounter behind him, and set about locating Urianger. As it turned out, he was not very difficult to find, as he had taken to occupying one of the few structures easily seen from a distance in the rolling hills. It was in surprisingly good repair, this charming abode, and Ugan strode in without knocking.

It surprised him not at all that Urianger had taken residence in a library. How typical.

Urianger was conversing with a red-hued pixie as Ugan entered, and they both looked over at his abrupt arrival. Spread before Urianger were a series of tomes and sheets of paper, written in a language Ugan could not read from this distance. The red-hued pixie appeared to be pointing at words and translating them, as Urianger repeated. He was learning the language of the pixies, then. Ugan doubted it would take the man long - he was a natural polyglot.

Urianger blinked at Ugan, before affording him a small smile.

“Forgive the disarray of mine abode, I have only recently come to occupy it.” He said by way of greeting, and Ugan waved the apology off. “What bringest thou to darken my doorstep at this time, my friend? I had not received word of thine arrival from the Exarch, so ‘twould seem you are not come on his errand.”

Ugan retrieved the sealed letter from his coat as he navigated the stacks of books strewn about the floor. The pixie, who had yet to say anything, watched Ugan with obvious interest.

“Honey seeks to commiserate with you one some matter or other.” Ugan informed him, handing the letter over. While Urianger had come to the first with no possessions - as had they all - he appeared to have traded his usual attire for something that appeared more… comfortable. He looked for all the world like a picture of a Sharlayan mystic, and perhaps it was a sense of homesickness that had inspired the garb. 

Urianger took the letter and unsealed it, before frowning into its contents. As he read, the pixie finally spoke.

“Oh, you naughty bookman! How dare you not introduce me to your friend of darkness!” The pixie complained, flitting about in an undignified huff. Urianger blanched at the outburst, and Ugan scowled. Was it too much to ask that the fae remain silent? “And after all I’ve done to help you!”

“Mine apologies, Feo Ul.” Urianger paused his reading of the letter to regard Ugan gravely, though it certainly seemed mock severe. “Ugan, before thee flies Feo Ul, esteemed friend of the Exarch and denizen of Il Mheg. Feo Ul, Ugan is a stalwart ally in our delayed efforts to restore night to this world.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dark One.” Feo Ul had been speaking in the common tongue, but upon using the final appellation, had reverted to his native language. As such, Urianger’s brow furrowed in askance.

“Dark One.” Ugan translated immediately, which caused Feo Ul to giggle in delight and Urianger’s brow to furrow further.

“Oh, how delightful!” Feo Ul crowed. “You must have this ‘Echo’ the bookman has told me so much about!” Ugan gave the excitable pixie a terse nod, while Urianger’s hand went up to his temple in thought.

“Why do you refer to him as such?” Urianger asked evenly. Feo Ul hummed, and dashed over to fly above Ugan’s head.

“Why, because he is possessed of a great and terrible darkness, of course!” Feo Ul explained, kicking at one of the wayward tufts of Ugan’s hair. “Dark Ones,” Feo Ul spoke in his language again, “are the denizens of that dark place beyond the veil of our world. A world of suffering and gloom.”

“The Void.” Ugan stated plainly.

“Oh! How apt and boring.” Feo Ul remarked. Ugan rolled his eyes.

“Thou art a curious pixie, possessed of many strange abilities.” Urianger noted. Feo Ul performed a curtsy.

“Thank you.” They said primly. “Now, I shan’t overstay my welcome, and I would hear firsthand from my kind how the Dark One bested their magicks. Farewell!” And without a further word, Feo Ul flew with great speed out of the cottage. Urianger frowned after him, before turning that same look to Ugan.

“Thou didst run afoul of the pixies?” He asked the question carefully, and Ugan could hear the real questions clearly: Did you kill any of them?

“I was stalled in fog for a few days while I waited for them to get bored.” Ugan explained. “When they grew tired of my complacency, I made an example of their paltry magicks, but left their lives intact.”

“I applaud thine restraint.” Urianger noted gravely. Ugan just shrugged. Wordlessly, Urianger returned to reading Honey’s letter while Ugan made himself busy inspecting the contents of the library. For the most part, the place was filled with the now-defunct histories of destroyed civilizations. Academically interesting, perhaps, but ultimately useless. Several studies of aetherial manipulation stood out to him, but they differed not at all from their counterparts on the source after a brief look, so he discarded those as well. It would take several days to search through the entire collection for anything interesting, and Urianger would certainly set anything aside if he found it during his time here.

Ugan looked back to see if Urainger had finished reading the letter, only to find that the man had, but was staring at him with a thoughtful expression. Ugan bade him speak with a wave of his hand.

“Didst thou read Honey’s missive?” Urianger asked.

“I know better than to delve into Honey’s business.” Ugan replied flatly. Urianger nodded at the wisdom of that statement, and continued.

“Under ordinary circumstance, I would not inform thou of the contents, as thou would no doubt express disinterest.” He sighed. “However, the letter bid me make this plain, for it regards thou.”

“In what way?” Ugan asked, folding his arms. He could not say that he loved the idea of Urianger and Honey discussing him behind his back - between the two of them, they probably had the greatest understanding of what Ugan was capable of, how he came to be, and how best to handle him if things should ever go… awry.

“Honey expresses concern regarding the well-being of our esteemed Warrior of Light.” Urianger began thoughtfully, methodically. His explanations were always thorough, though almost never short. “While she doth believe the Exarch’s plan to be sound, she worries the strain an abundance of Light aether may put upon Berry’s soul will exceed even his prodigious ability to contain it.”

“The Exarch already mentioned he won’t be able to.” Ugan pointed out. “Hence, the Tower.”

“And the Exarch’s willing sacrifice.” Urianger clarified. Ugan clicked his tongue, irritated.

“The man is willing to make a martyr of himself, why deny him the opportunity?” Ugan demanded, and Urianger held his hand up to placate him.

“T’was not our intention to deny him, but mayhaps we may offer an alternative solution.” Urianger tented his fingers. “Know thou why Y’shtola hath fled to the far reaches of the Greatwood?”

“I heard tale of an argument. Honey did not elaborate further.” Ugan supplied, and Urianger nodded.

“Mistress Rhul has taken issue with our methodology. As is her wont, upon hearing our tale, she took it upon herself to verify various details by availing herself of future histories from the source. The Exarch’s collection of yet unwritten tomes regarding what happened during and after the Eighth Umbral Calamity is extensive, and Y’shtola felt there must needs be a better answer or some conflicting truth hidden amongst them, that she might then bring truth to our lies. Anticipating this, I had already acquainted myself with these selfsame tomes, and am satisfied to report she found naught concrete enough to call our tale into question.” Urianger paused, and shook his head slightly.

“But she did find something.” Ugan prompted.

“Indeed. As the tale goes, when many of the Scions and thine Free Company had gathered to discuss a way forward through a future conflict with the Empire, a lethal weapon known as the Black Rose was unleashed, taking the lives of all present almost instantaneously. This thou hast already been told, and forms the crux of my fictitious vision.” Urianger gave Ugan a grave look. “What is not common knowledge and had succeeded in escaping mine notice was that there was indeed a singular survivor of the attack. This survivor carried the Warrior of Light’s body out of the wreckage, holding proof that Eorzea’s greatest champion had fallen. What followed hath already been related to thee.”

Ugan had nothing to add, save that he had a sinking suspicion he knew what Urianger was getting at. Ugan’s understanding of Black Rose was that it was some sort of aetherochemical mixture that caused everything it touched to immediately stagnate aetherically, essentially cutting off aether from flowing into or out of whatever it touched. As such, it was strongly aspected towards Light… 

“The sole survivor was none other than thee, Ugan.” Urianger confirmed, and Ugan clenched his teeth. So, in that future, he had failed to protect Blackberry, thereby freeing him from Hydaelyn’s bondage and giving him free reign upon the face of the Source. It did not sit well with him that his strength had proven insufficient in this alternative history but he would have shortly gotten over the blow to his pride given the cornucopia of aether he would be free to consume.

But the Exarch had never mentioned a powerful Voidsent terrorizing the face of the world.

“Does this history elaborate on my actions following this?” Ugan asked, and Urianger gave him a quizzical look. Ugan could not explain to this man the reason behind this question - that, freed from the yoke of Hydaelyn, Ugan could foresee himself doing nothing but plunging the world into chaos in order to feed his insatiable hunger for aether. It was a simple enough curiosity though, and he hoped Urianger would not examine the question too closely.

“Nay. Though we posed a similar question to the Exarch, and he indicated that your future counterpart played a small role in assisting the Ironworks in bringing their vision to fruition, and the Exarch counted this incarnation of thee as a friend and confidant.”

Ugan stared blankly at Urianger. That… certainly explained the Exarch’s friendliness when he had first arrived. But…

Ugan felt a black, hateful anger begin to swell up within him. He… he had been freed of Hydaelyn’s yoke, and he had still chosen to serve her? He had been granted dominion over the Source and he had passed over that opportunity in favor assisting mortals in a desperate bid to reclaim their lost world? What could have possibly possessed this future version of him? Had the Black Rose driven him mad? Had Hydaelyn lied? Was he bound forevermore to her will, regardless of the terms of their agreement?

He realized he was clenching his fists so hard, he was beginning to shake. Urianger, for his part, said nothing. Ugan turned his back on the man so that he may compose himself.

“T’was not mine intent to cause thou discomfort.” Urianger offered after several moments of silence. “In truth, t’was privately agreed that thine interest in such matters would be fleeting at best.”

Ugan exhaled, and relaxed his hand. His anger was pointless - this future would be averted, and hopefully, whatever foolishness had possessed would be averted as well.

“So, I survived the Black Rose. What does that have to do with anything?” Ugan prompted tersely, though he kept his back to the bookman. Urianger clearly had nothing else to say regarding Ugan’s display of emotion, and opted to take the change of subject at face value. 

“In Y’shtola’s estimation, thine nature givest thou an inherent resistance to the influence of the Light.” Urianger explained. “Thusly, she wouldst see thou placed upon the altar of sacrifice in place of the Warrior of Light.”

“...Because if things go wrong, you only lose me, and not Berry.” Ugan finished the unspoken thought, voice even, if cynical. From a purely utilitarian standpoint, it made sense. The fact that they had deigned to treat him like a colleague and not a tool spoke of their own misguided sense of empathy. Perhaps it would be refreshing for the farce to finally be lifted.

“Thou misrepresent the purpose of the argument, though that same conclusion raised Mistress Muffin’s ire. The fires of contention thusly lit, there was little in my power that I could do to quell their tempers. In truth, I believe the both of them act only out of concern for the Warrior of Light’s well-being.” Ugan heard Urianger shuffling papers on his desk, and glanced back at the man. Honey’s letter was still prominently atop the rest of Urianger’s notes, and he seemed to be inspecting it now. “To wit, it seems Honey hath had a change of heart regarding the matter, and wished that I, given my expertise in the field, consult with you regarding your willingness to take on the task, and the feasibility of it.”

“Is it wise to disrupt a plan more than a century in the making?” Ugan pointed out, brow furrowed in thought. “I am sure the Exarch wishes to limit my involvement.”

“The Exarch hath naught but good intentions. When the truth cometh to light…” Urianger paused, and Ugan sneered.

“Then this new plan is simply a way to assuage your conscience?” Ugan demanded. Urianger stood, then, with a deep frown and a storm behind his eyes.

“Thine attempts to call the virtue of our intentions into question at every turn reeks plainly of thine futile attempts to dismiss our efforts. That thou persisteth in thine incrimination of our every action in spite of plentiful evidence to indicate our goodwill displayeth only thine own misguided need to dismiss mortals as flawed and selfish creatures! For thee to believe otherwise would call into question thine own existence and the merits thereof. Thou think thyself a superior being?” Urianger waved his arm emphatically, punctuating that statement. “Nay. Thine own shortcomings have been put to proof time and again, and thou hast relied upon mortals consistently for the perpetuation of thine own existence!” Urianger paused, and took in a deep breath. He exhaled slowly, before continuing, his voice level. “Thou art a valued friend and ally, for all thou refuseth to see it. We would not dare risk thine life unduly any more than we would risk the Warrior of Light’s. That we seek to entrust thee with such a pivotal duty speaketh to the faith we have in thee - both in thine capabilities, and in thine commitment to our cause.”

Ugan turned to face Urianger as the Scion reprimanded him, but kept his face neutral. He could count on one hand the number of times he had seen Urianger personally lose his composure. Only ever during times of sincere emotional distress. In truth, it disgusted Ugan, that complete carefree dismissal of their own wellbeing.

Could they not see that, as ever, Ugan did all that he did under duress? Could they not see that, were it not for Hydaelyn’s yoke, he would have gladly slain them all and supped upon their aether? Were they so foolish as to believe he would choose the salvation of mortals over the satiation of his endless hunger? Were they so foolish that they would trust a ravening beast?

_What a beast your future self was_ , a forgotten voice whispered in Ugan’s head, _to fight for the mortals, when he had already won._

__

__

“Thou deceiveth thyself, Ugan Thais.” Urianger murmured gravely.

Ugan held Urianger’s unflinching gaze as that strange thought trickled down through his mind, and fell like a drop of water into an endless, dark ocean. Lost in the waters, it vanished.

Foolish, Ugan thought to himself.

“...Pure aether, as you know, accumulates, even when introduced to opposing aspects.” Ugan explained, ignoring Urianger’s outburst. Having roused the bookman to anger was surely a feat, but his intent had been to probe their true reasons for this change of plan. As usual, he had no choice but to consider that the Scions were acting in good faith. He wondered, not for the first time, how long that would last. “The exception to this rule is aether of Light and Dark aspect. When introduced in pure form to one another, they destroy each other.” Ugan conjured a sphere of darkness and a sphere of light, and tossed them idly together. They disappeared with a small pop.

Urianger sighed.

“Mine own understanding of this subject mirrors thine own.” He pointed out mildly, seemingly content to allow Ugan to lecture him.

“As my own soul is heavily altered in aspect towards Darkness, it stands to reason that introducing pure light aether into myself would cause not only the newly introduced light to be destroyed, but a portion of the darkness within me as well - undoubtedly a victory for my continued subservience to your cause.” Ugan watched Urianger’s face to see if he would rise to the bait, but the other man just stared flatly. “However, so heavily aspected is my soul towards darkness that it continually produces aether of that same aspect - much like any voidsent. The,” Ugan held up his hands, crooking his fingers in an imitation of quotation marks, “‘Blessing of Light’, prevents this darkness from suffusing my surroundings, while simultaneously preventing the consumption of aether I enjoyed in my previous state of being.” Urianger frowned thoughtfully.

“Dost thou believe this inhibition poses a problem towards the absorption of a Lightwarden’s aether?”

“That remains to be seen.” Ugan replied with a bare shrug. “Having only encountered the one, I can tell you that the light it bears within itself is plentiful, and blinding. The Blessing of Light should be sufficient to hold it, but…”

“The Exarch hath indicated that it cannot.” Urianger sighed, shaking his head. “So, the question remaineth - doth the Blessing of Light shatter ‘neath the pressure of such a quantity of primordial light, or doth it simply fail to protect the bearer?”

“If the latter, I am slain. If the former…” Ugan gestured at himself, and allowed himself a sinister smile.

“Thou art free.” Urianger noted, his mouth turning up at the corners. “Perhaps then we shall be free of thine miserable demeanor.”

Ugan’s smile fell into a scowl with such rapidity that it almost caused his cheeks to cramp. These Scions had no sense of self preservation.

“It’s not as though Hydaelyn will allow me to pursue a course that wrests me from her control regardless.” Ugan growled dismissively. “I admit I am uniquely suited to the task. It is a sound plan.” Ugan gestured vaguely to the air above him. “Shall we then bring the Exarch into our confidence?”

“I believe his cooperation is necessary.” Urianger confirmed. “If for no other reason than that he beareth the responsibility for the fruition of this endeavor, and should therefore bear the responsibility should it fail.”

“I suppose I should thank you for the consideration.” Ugan remarked sardonically, and began making for the door.

“Take mine words and do what thou wisheth with them, but pray take thine sour affectations with thee.” Urianger was already perusing his stacks of notes. “Alongside word to our allies of our resolution.”

“Y’shtola included?” Ugan asked, pausing at the doorway and glancing back. Urianger’s lips pursed, but he did not otherwise look away from his reading.

“She hath washed her hands of us for the time being.” Urianger murmured. “Do as thou wilt, but I shan’t send thou to the Greatwood on an errand likely to be met with scorn.”

Ugan grunted in some sort of agreement, and opened the door to let himself out. Light flooded the entryway, blinding and savage, and he blinked out into it. Suddenly, strangely, he was beset by an urge to thank the bookish Scion, and so powerful was the emotion that it stopped him in his tracks.

Like forcing down bile, he choked back what words may have come. Thanks would not win the day.

Ugan made for the Crystarium, deciding a few days' travel would do him good. If he could find some sort of respite from the insufferable Light, he may be able to clear away the strange feelings and thoughts that had begun to invade his head as of late.


	8. Sentimentality

Ugan spent his travel back to the Crystarium satiating his dual vices of isolation and violence. There was no small number of Sin Eaters roaming this light-blasted world, and it gave him great pleasure to summarily end their existences. Some gave a bit more fight than others - notably, a sword and shield wielding, winged Eater that reminded Ugan of the Personnel’s fruitless delve into Amdapor. None stood for long against the onslaught of his magic, however.

It scratched an itch.

There were not enough Sin Eaters to keep him preoccupied the entirety of his journey, however. Instead, Ugan took to engaging himself in the simple matters of his soul-body’s upkeep - rest, food, and meditation. While there was shade aplenty beneath twisted trees and weathered stone, true darkness yet eluded him, and he felt as though he was walking through days worth of that vexing faerie fog. It did little to dull his prowess in combat, but he found it difficult to focus on more than one thing at a time. Even so, he spent no small amount of time on the return journey fishing, and whilst doing so, thinking.

He had been eager to dismiss the strange thoughts and impressions assailing him as a side effect of his soul’s second riftward journey. Similarly afflicted, however, his companions did not manifest the same symptoms. Even out of body, they seemed none the worse for wear. As the most notable point of departure between himself and his mortal companions was his voidsent nature, it stood to reason that it was to blame for his sudden shift in faculty and temperament.

Why, then did that shift have to lean him towards _sentimentality_ , of all things?

He caught himself thinking back on simpler times - before the liberation of Ala Mhigo, before the Dragonsong War - with nostalgia. Gods strike him down.

It stood to reason that the light was affecting him negatively, ambient though it was. He wondered if such a heavily light-aspected weapon as the Black Rose had similarly altered the Ugan of the future past. Would this world succeed in turning him into a blind, ignorant, mortal-loving fool? Such thoughts gave him pause, but he swiftly dismissed them. No, there was not enough light in this - or any - world to brighten the darkness in his soul. And he was content with that - let mortals squabble for a sliver of their precious light. The darkness was all he had ever known, and there was power in it.

It would not be taken from him so easily.

The closer he got to the Crystarium, the more common additional travelers and guard patrols became. Guards usually gave him a curt nod, but rarely spoke to him unless spoken to. Travellers were even less friendly than that, giving him a wide berth whilst being content to ignore him. This suited him well enough - solitude was preferable to conversation, though it rarely lasted very long.

As if to put that though to the proof, he shortly heard shouting in the distance, and the clashing of steel. He was approaching the Ostall Imperative from the north. The tower had been the second tallest thing in Lakeland until the Crystal Tower had come along, and now it was dwarfed both by that structure and the derelict elven keep atop the distant plateau. Still, it served well enough as a checkpoint for what traffic came through the northern portions of Lakeland.

Now, it appeared to be under siege.

Ugan spared himself a bare moment to consider not rushing to their aid, but the tug of the blessing of light prompted him to action, and he knew well the consequences of trying to resist it. So it was he found himself sprinting to join the defense of the Imperative. It became clear immediately that it was in the midst of a Sin Eater attack, and, unless Ugan’s eye for warfare deceived him, the Crystarium Guard would most likely win the day without his interference.

But there would be casualties.

Ugan drew his staff with a flourish as he tapped the crystal focus, re-aspecting it towards White magic. The Eaters were plentiful and hostile, but they were otherwise minor. Their only advantage was sheer numbers, and if Ugan could prevent the guard from being overwhelmed, victory would shortly follow. The guard had quit the walls - the Eaters could fly, and would not be dissuaded by mere stone. Instead, they made temptations of their own aether, undoubtedly to keep the Eaters away from whatever civilians sheltered now within the Imperative. Foolish, and noble. A distressingly common description of mortals.

Ugan conjured a dome of protective magic over the flagging guardsmen with a shout. His sudden arrival was met with surprise, but, to their credit, the guards remained focused on the enemy and spared him only a fraction of their attention.

“To me!” Ugan cried, raising his staff aloft. It pulsed once, and began to glow, brighter, and brighter. The guards rushed to his position, spear readied and shields up as the Eaters closed in, all white teeth and terrible snarling. When the light emanating from the staff began to keen and shine brighter than the sun, Ugan released it.

The sound of shattering glass mingled with the pained screams of the Sin Eaters. A sphere of incandescent light cascaded out and away from Ugan, sparing the guards and splitting the Eaters. It surprised him not at all that Eaters were susceptible to light-aspected magic - after all, Voidsent were not immune to the power of darkness. Holy was a devastating spell - satisfying and effective. Would that White Magic lent itself more strongly to such power.

Ugan held his staff before him, and began channeling the light-blasted aether of the land through himself. Incandescent wings of light sprouted from his back - aether discharging from him as he drew deep of the land’s bounty - and with another wave of light, the myriad wounds and weariness fled from the body’s of the defenders. As the Eaters recovered from the onslaught of light, they were met by the renewed vigor and strengthened resolve of those gathered to repel them. Ugan lent his strength to the culling of the remaining eaters, blasting them with precise, cascading torrents of aether. He prided himself as an effective wielder of the aetheric arts, and so it was with some satisfaction that he noted there were no casualties, despite the horde that had assailed them. When the last Eater fell, a cheer rose up from those gathered, but he had already removed himself from their midst. He had not the time or inclination to receive their thanks, and he had only been acting under Hydaelyn’s influence regardless.

Ugan watched them celebrate from a short distance for a moment, before continuing down the road. It seemed that fate conspired against his retreat, for it was not long before he came across a jogging contingent of guardsmen coming from the direction of the Crystarium. They had the determined expressions of would-be reinforcements, and were being led by none other than the captain of the guard herself. Lyna caught sight of Ugan first, and broke away from those she was leading with a shout to carry on to the Imperative and assess the situation. Obediently, the men and women of the Crystarium did as they were told.

Lyna trotted up to Ugan, and he favored her with a look that was neither annoyed or angry.

“You come from the direction of the Imperative, though the call for reinforcements did not mention your presence.” She noted, without pretense. A mortal capable of getting straight to the point - rarer than diamonds. Despite the fact that she appeared to have run all the way from the Crystarium fully armored, she did not seem winded at all. “I take it from your unhurried gait my men are not needed.”

“You have the right of it.” Ugan nodded. “The men of the imperative repelled the last Eater not five minutes past.”

“Wholly without your aid?” She put forth the question, though from the bare upturn of her lips it seemed she already knew the answer.

“The role I played was a supporting one.” Ugan clarified. “Thankfully, your guards did the majority of the heavy lifting.”

“And you will spirit away without thanks or accolades once more?” Lyna shook her head. “I won’t stop you, but I will thank you for the good you’ve done.”

Ugan grunted, and began walking away with a wave of his hand.

“No good deed goes unpunished.” He mused sourly. “Farewell, Captain.”

However Lyna decided to respond, it was nonverbally, and Ugan did not bother to turn around and find out what it was. He was reminded, suddenly, of his various commitments. He had spent long enough travelling in solitude. Now, it was time to move forward. He had words for the Exarch, and then, he had an Eater to hunt down in Ahm Araeng.

The rest of the way to the Crystarium was free of attack and incident. He was briefly questioned by the guard at the gate regarding the attack on the Imperative, and Ugan simply confirmed that there had been no casualties and that all was well. Lyna would undoubtedly brief him more thoroughly once she returned, but such was her responsibility. Ugan made straight for the Tower. 

Frustratingly, he had two more encounters with Crystarium guardsmen in between the gates and the Tower itself. The first asked similar questions as the guard at the gate, and received similar answers. The second - the one who stood outside the entrance to the Tower proper - informed Ugan tersely that he had been given order to let no one within the tower for the time being.

Ugan stared at him flatly, but the man refused to wilt. Such devotion to the Exarch. He hoped it would serve them well, but thought rather dimly that it probably would not. 

He wondered for what purpose the Exarch had sealed the Tower - albeit temporarily - and concluded that, perhaps, he was attempting another summoning. The fourth such summoning since Ugan himself had arrived. Would he successfully grab Berry this time? Ugan doubted it. He had often turned the problem over in his head, and had come to the conclusion that such accuracy was perhaps beyond the scope of the Tower. They would need something to focus it, and for that, they would need someone more capable than him to craft a device that would interact with the Tower. To serve as a beacon of some sort. He had expressed this thought to Honey and, as she was still in the Exarch’s good graces, she had promised to pass the idea along to him.

Ugan sighed as he descended the steps, momentarily thwarted. To the Stairs, then. Whoever this bounty hunter Cerigg was, their meeting was long overdue, and he was keen to see this ‘Phronesis’ for himself. 

Being midday - the irony of such a thought was not lost on him - the Stairs were fairly lively, being patronized by workers taking their noontime meals or regulars getting a headstart on the evening’s drinking. Ugan scanned the crowd, and noted Cyella busily moving between tables, for all the world looking the part of a perfect barmaid. It seemed false on her, from where he stood, but it was a falsehood everyone else seemed to believe. He left it alone, and approached the bar. Glynard spared him a glance before finishing his conversation with a mystel patron and turning his attention to Ugan.

“You certainly seem well-travelled, Sinner.” Glynard greeted him casually. They were familiar with one another, as Ugan had coordinated with the man on several of Honey’s endeavors. The man was excellent at matching the mood of whoever he was speaking with, and did not prevaricate with Ugan. As far as bartenders went, he was tolerable. “Can I get you anything to help put the road behind you?”

“I’ve more road ahead of me.” Ugan told him, and placed some gil on the counter. “I’m looking for a hunter named Cerigg. Is he here?” Glynard glanced at the gil, and then gestured to his right, towards the Pendants, at a table inhabited by a tall, dark-skinned hume who appeared to be taking a nap. Nearby, an enormous bow rested easily against the railing, along with a quiver full of arrows. 

“That’s him there.” Glynard indicated, and then nodded at the gil. “Whatcha buying?”

“Whatever his regular is.” Ugan muttered off-handedly, and Glynard began to fill a tankard with ale.

“Cerigg works as hard as he drinks.” Glynard mentioned as he prepared the drink. “Rest assured, he approaches his work with the same dedication he approaches his naps.”

“A glowing commendation.” Ugan replied drily. “Though it does alleviate some of my concerns.” Glynard handed Ugan the tankard with a nod, which Ugan returned, and then took his leave. He approached the sleeping Cerigg without a great deal of stealth, and loomed over him for a moment before slamming the tankard down onto the table. At the sound, the bowman woke with a start.

He immediately shot Ugan a sharp glare. He was not slow to wake, then.

“What’s this… oho!” Realization dawned on the man’s face as he glanced from Ugan to the tankard. He grabbed the tankard and took a long draw as he stood up. “Let me guess.” He said, setting the tankard back down and looking Ugan over. “You’re standing in front of Cerigg, bounty hunter nonpareil, because you’ve a mind to aid me in felling the dread Phronesis,” He gave a cocksure grin, which Ugan returned with a flat stare. “Do I have the right of it, or do I have the right of it?”

“You have the right of it.” Ugan replied. “Though you may dispense with the theatrics.” Cerigg shrugged his shoulders in mock surrender, though he nodded

“Straight to the point, then.” Cerigg stated, and launched into an explanation of who Phronesis was and why it was important that he be destroyed. Ugan listened patiently, though he glossed over the part about the bounty and the merchants. That held little interest for him, though Honey would certainly be pleased by the sum. “...Provided you can prove to me that you possess the, ah, specialized set of skills I require, I promise I will make it worth your while.”

Hm. A test. Practical of the man, if bothersome. Ugan shrugged, which Cerigg took as agreement.

Suddenly, Ugan felt a… shift, in the air. Subtle, unnoticeable to the general populace, but it was a feeling Ugan was familiar with, and it was radiating from the Tower. It was the feeling of the Tower reaching across the rift, to the Source. So, the Exarch had performed another summoning. Whom had he fumblingly grasped this time…?

“A matter demands my attention here.” Ugan explained quickly, and Cerigg blinked at him. “What is the nature of this test?”

“No need to rush. “ Cerigg assured him. “If you fancy yourself up to the task, come find me in Ahm Araeng. I mean to set off for there shortly.”

“Very well.” Ugan agreed, before turning heel and stalking back towards the Tower. Behind him, he heard the sound of Cerigg picking up his bow and heading out himself. Whether or not the man was competent remained to be seen, but he was certainly confident. It may have served him well until now, but he wondered how much that confidence would hold up in the face of Void magic.

Time would tell.

The guardsman at the entrance to the Tower had still not received any instructions to allow visitors, though this time Ugan would not allow himself to be deterred, and so he simply ignored the man and opened the doors himself. There was a great deal of sputtering from him, but that was soon shut behind the large doors, and Ugan made his way to the Ocular. He heard voices before he caught sight of them, and grimaced. As he opened the doors and strode inside, a half-dressed Alphinaud Leveilleur was in the process of attempting to indignantly dress down the Crystal Exarch.

At least the Exarch had heeded Honey’s suggestion that he keep clothing on hand for any new arrivals. How prescient. 

“...entrust the care of my body to strangers! And what, then, of my companions?” Alphinaud was shrugging into some blue tunic as he spoke, the frustration plain in his voice. Silently, a short distance away, sat Delphyne, looking a little glum. She perked up as Ugan entered, eyes wide, though she said nothing as the Exarch regarded Alphinaud steadily.

“Pray, ask one of them yourself.” The Exarch said steadily, gesturing to Ugan. Alphinaud whirled around, some form of hope on his face, though it flattened considerably when he saw Ugan, before he schooled it into neutrality.

“I will admit,” he began diplomatically, “that I find your presence here both a relief and frustration. Though it is good, at least, to see another familiar face.”

“Last I heard, you’d gone to ground in Garlemald” Ugan stated, and then turned his attention to the Exarch. “Your aim has been suspect to say the least, but he was in a different country.”

As was his wont, the Exarch did not respond or rise to the bait. Delphyne, however, sighed loudly.

“Enough. All of you.” She stood, wearing a simple white robe undoubtedly provided by the Exarch. Alphinaud seemed only slightly mollified, though his frustration was still obvious. Delphyne strode over to Ugan, though her gaze was one of appraisal rather than disapproval. A change from the norm, to say the least. “Honey supposed you may yet live, despite all evidence to the contrary. When she was lost too…” Delphyne shook her head. “Blackberry has been taking this hard.”

“He will persevere.” Ugan stated simply, unphased.

“Will he?” Delphyne wondered, sighing. “Well. The Exarch-” She gestured to the man. “Has apprised us of the situation, and has indicated that we should be put into contact with our companions.”

“That Y’shtola has sought to sequester herself rather than collaborate speaks to the untenable situation we find ourselves in.” Alphinaud interjected hotly. “Even should we verify this vision with Urianger himself…”

“There is much to discuss, and here is not the place to do it.” Ugan stated. “I have need to discuss a private matter with the Exarch. Here.” Ugan pulled out a linkpearl that Honey had given him in order to contact her in case of emergencies. “Honey will be interested in knowing you’ve arrived. Bring up your concerns to her.” He dropped the device in Delphyne’s hands.

Delphyne nodded, and turned to Alphinaud, gesturing that they should leave. Alphinaud’s lips pressed into a frustrated line. And he shot a final glance at Ugan and the Exarch, before following Delphyne out. Ugan watched him go, unconcerned. His temper would cool, and he would come to see the plight of the first as a cause most righteous. It was his nature. 

As the door closed, he turned to the Exarch, who was still standing stolidly before the mirror.

“Sit.” Ugan bade. “I know you are exhausted.”

The Exarch hesitated, before the call of some small respite dragged him to the floor. He crossed his legs, and placed his staff across them. Still, he said nothing.

“You are frustrated.” Ugan observed.

“Do not speak to me of frustration.” The Exarch snapped, uncharacteristically. Ugan raised an eyebrow. “A plan nearly three centuries in the making, constantly delayed by my own incompetence...” He shook his head. “But I mustn't give up.”

“That would reflect poorly upon you.” Ugan observed again. Hooded as he was, it was impossible to tell what sort of look the man shot him, only that the ire in it was nearly palpable. Perhaps the Tower hummed with an echo of his emotions? An interesting theory.

“And what has brought you here today, my friend?” The inflection on the endearment made it clear that the Exarch thought of Ugan as a friend in name only. “Surely you have not come simply to bear witness to another of my failures? Ah, but I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Is that any way to speak to your close friend and confidant?” Ugan replied with a false smile, spreading his arms wide. He dropped the act almost immediately after the Exarch failed to react strongly. A pity.

“I have become adept at separating what was true during the Eighth Umbral Calamity, and what is true now.” The Exarch sighed. “Though I had, admittedly, hoped your change in demeanor may have preceded the death of the Warrior of Light. More the fool I.”

Ugan strode forward to stand in the center of the Ocular, and folded his arms. His purpose was to discuss the proposed change of plan with the Exarch. But the burning question of the alternate Ugan had scarcely left his mind since he had learned of it.

“Tell me more about this.” Ugan prompted neutrally. Ever shrewd, the Exarch regarded him silently for a few long moments. Inscrutable, Ugan could not tell what the Exarch was thinking, and only assumed he must be weighing the idea of refusing him or demanding why he wanted to know such things. Ugan was prepared to answer either response. After some consideration, the Exarch spoke.

“In many ways, the Ugan I came to know was much like you are now.” The Exarch explained, his voice measured and betraying no emotion. “Never did he opt for sentimentality over reason, or kindness over pragmatism. His behavior was underpinned by a fervent desire to see Cid Garlond’s vision of a restored future made reality. As the last companion of the Warrior of Light, this Ugan often held the line against threats that would have otherwise spelled the doom of the Ironworks, and this endeavor as a whole. In many ways, he was like the Warrior of Light himself, though any caught calling him such were favored with one of his scathing looks and many sharp words.” Despite himself, it seemed to Ugan, a degree of fondness entered the Exarch’s voice as he recalled these events. Ugan had to stop himself from sneering. “By the time I was awoken, he had already earned a reputation as the Ironworks’ protector. As his was the only face I recognized, we spoke often of a time long past that neither of us could go back to. Before the calamity. Before his death. It seemed always to me that this Ugan had regrets, and in that I had found a kindred spirit.” The Exarch trailed off for a moment, and then frowned. “Your nature never came to light. None had reason to suspect it.”

Ugan listened to the Exarch’s account while forcing down the rage boiling inside of him. Yet another confirmation that he had failed to claim what was rightfully his. What had possessed him to throw his lot in with mortals? Had some greater power claimed him once more? Was he forever doomed to be a pawn?

“You are frustrated.” The Crystal Exarch observed. To most, that statement would have seemed a completely neutral observation. Ugan heard the undertone of smugness in the Exarch’s voice, however. Turnabout was fair play, and so Ugan ignored the jab.

“Honey and Urianger are of the opinion that it should be I who absorbs the aether of Light from the Lightwardens.” Ugan said this off-handedly, both to change the subject and catch the Exarch on the back foot. While it seemed he succeeded in the former, the Exarch did not seem at all surprised by the turn of their conversation.

“Mistress Y’shtola felt much the same way. She was none too pleased when I presented a dissenting opinion.” He tapped his crystalline fingers along his staff thoughtfully. “An opinion I present now to you.”

“Honey and Urianger have come around on the idea.” Ugan pointed out.

“Their chief concerns in the first place was that you had not been consulted.” The Exarch sighed. “Y’shtola held fast to the idea that, when you were presented with the facts, you would agree readily.”

“As usual, she was correct.” Ugan supplied. The Exarch was silent for a few moments longer, and then began to stand. It was slow, but not at all shaky or uneven. It seemed he was regaining his strength more and more quickly. 

“I am loath to trust you with this responsibility.” The Exarch told him, voice low. “I need not explain my misgivings.” Ugan nodded.

“In truth, it is refreshing for a mortal to exercise due caution when dealing with me.” He said, allowing himself a small smile. “I was beginning to think you all had forgotten to fear me.”

“I do not fear you, my friend.” The Exarch stated simply, and then raised his hand. “You have not forgotten the initial purpose of this Tower, and you know you stand in my place of power.” Ugan shifted his weight, watching the Exarch closely. It was true - he had not forgotten. He could be absorbed and trapped in the crystalline structure, irrevocably, forever. And all if the Exarch simply willed it. “I have often wondered if it would not be better to simply remove you from the matter entirely.” The Exarch continued, voice still quiet and thoughtful. “Only the Warrior of Light’s fondness for you has stayed my hand. He is distressed by your death, and should you not be present when he arrives, I fear his resentment will preclude any cooperation on his part.”

“I’m sure Honey could convince him you did the right thing. Or perhaps that it was an accident.” Ugan bit out, clenching his teeth. In truth, he felt cornered, and he was lashing out. He did not enjoy the feeling. The Exarch stood silently for a long time, and it seemed to Ugan as though he was considering those words. Appraising him. Ugan wondered idly what he was thinking, and why. 

Ultimately, it did not matter.

All at once, the Exarch relaxed, and he sighed. Ugan raised an eyebrow at the man, who simply shook his head sadly.

“You are so ready to be the villain.” He stated, melancholy creeping into his tone. “You see everything only as valuable as it is useful. It never occured to me that you may extend that idea even unto yourself.”

“To believe otherwise is a decidedly mortal notion.” Ugan pointed out, but even as he said it, he felt a churning of discomfort in his breast. He forced it down.

“Yes, and you are decidedly not mortal.” The Exarch responded coolly. He turned around to face the mirror. “I shall agree to this plan. As your presence here is still my responsibility, I shall even agree to take the light from you and spirit it away, should it become too much.”

Ugan folded his arms, waiting for the caveat. He did not need to wait long.

“But,” The Exarch began, holding up a single, crystalline finger, and looking back. “Know that should you stray from our course for even a moment, I will not hesitate to strike you down, and bind you to this Tower forevermore.”

“We will still need Berry’s help.” Ugan pointed out, ignoring the threat.

“That,” The Exarch stated with a certain amount of finality, “has never been more clear.”

Ugan knew a dismissal when he heard one, and promptly made his exit. Honey and Urianger would be pleased the Exarch was willing to aid their cause, though he wondered if Y’shtola would be mollified at all. Somehow, he doubted it.

As Ugan stepped back out of the Tower, the guard present shot him a withering look, but Ugan just waved his hand at the man dismissively and took his leave. He was halfway down the steps, lost in thought, before he realized Honey was standing in the plaza before the Tower. He heard her before he saw her, as she was currently making a fuss of Alphinaud, and her voice was carrying - as it was wont to do. Delphyne stood to one side, her expression patient, but tired. From the sound of it, Honey was worrying about the boy in the way that she did - through a special mixture of venom and kindness. Ugan knew she was protective of the lad ever since their adventures in Ishgard and Doma, and she seemed none too pleased that he was currently on the First.

She did not spare Ugan a glance as he stood next to Delphyne and folded his arms. At least his fellow White Mage afforded him a small sigh.

“They’ve been at it for minutes.” She muttered. Ugan just grunted in response, as Alphinaud objected to Honey’s insinuation that he would be in any more danger here than he was in Garlemald. Unfortunately, he accidentally let slip that he had been working with Gaius van Baelsar of all people, and that simply raised Honey’s ire further.

“The Black Wolf lives?” Ugan whispered to Delphyne, and she just shrugged helplessly.

“This is news to me.” She looked up at him. “...There was a funeral, you know.” Ugan blinked down at her, for a moment lost as to what she was talking about. But of course - those on the Source thought he had died.

“I am just now hearing about this?” Ugan asked, glancing at Honey.

“Honey privately believed we would not be rid of you so easily, a sentiment Urianger and Y’shtola shared.” Delphyne shook her head. “So senseless was your ‘death’ that I chalked up their hope to misplaced grief.”

“You, at least, must have been relieved to be free of me.” He observed. In lieu of responding, she gave him a long, wounded look. What was this about, then? There had never been any love lost between the two of them. Would she feign sentiment now, of all times?

“As I said, there was a funeral.” She stated evenly. “Raubahn and the Sultana spoke. Aymeric and the Admiral attended. The Padjal mourned the loss of a fellow practitioner, and I had an interesting conversation with a pair of crimson duelists who cursed the gods for taking such a promising comrade from them. Dozens came to pay their respects. Hundreds more sent their condolences. From Ala Mhigo to Doma, and everywhere else the ‘Black Conjurer’ had a hand in liberating.”

Ugan stared down at ther, honestly at a loss for words. What could she… What was the purpose of telling him all this? Was it to instill in him some sort of… pride in his work? Sentiment for those whom he had been forced to fight for? He opened his mouth to say… something. Something scathing. Anything that would prove he did not care at all about such… frivolous wastes of time. X’rhun had been a stepping stone towards greater power. The Padjal as well… The Sultana…

He shook his head, trying to reconcile his thoughts with his feelings.

The light beat down upon him from above, and a thought flowed unbidden from his mind and out his mouth.

“What of Alisaie?” He heard himself say. Dimly, he was aware that Honey and Alphinaud had stopped bickering. Delphyne’s face softened, saddened, and she looked away.

“...Devastated, of course. But she soldiers on.” She looked at Alphinaud, who was making a face not unlike he had just swallowed a frog. “You would be proud of her, I think. She misses you terribly.”

“...I can only hope she does not take my exit from the source too harshly.” Alphinaud managed thickly.

Honey was staring at Ugan, brow furrowed. Unlike him, she had acquired a wide-brim hat with which to keep the light off her face. As such, her expression was inscrutable, but her eyes gleamed with… something. Anticipation. Expectation.

Ugan found himself grounded in that stare, and shook himself free of the strange ennui that had gripped him. He scowled.

“Bah. They mourn nothing.” He had the sudden desire to kill something, and swiftly decided that he had tarried here long enough - he would go and meet Cerigg in Ahm Araeng. At least there he would be far from the strange looks of his peers. “I have an investigation to conduct.” He stated bluntly, and stalked away. It would do him good to quit this place - and quickly. For that purpose, the aetheryte would serve. It was fortunate he had already visited Mord Souq on Honey’s business - it made his escape all the more swift.

Behind him, Honey, Alphinaud and Delphyne watched him vanish into the aether. 

“Did he just ask after my sister’s well-being, unprompted?” Alphinaud asked, his voice a conflicting mixture of disbelief and frustration. Honey just hummed in acknowledgement.

“The climate agrees with him.” She said mildly, and Delphyne snorted. Alphinaud shook his head, and sighed. There were more important things to worry about than the vagaries of a tempermental conjurer, of that he was certain.


	9. Nothing Better to Do

Cerigg, as it turned out, was not only competent - he was also intelligent and resourceful. In an even more surprising turn of events, he was also aware of his own limitations and a daft hand at solving problems. Even if Ugan found his theatrics a little tiring, it was clear he was currently partnered with a man who was not only used to going at it alone, but also very good at it.

When Ugan arrived in Ahm Araeng, Cerigg had already scouted out a Sin Eater of considerable strength, and bade Ugan dispatch it in order to show off his magical prowess. Ugan did so with ease and, seemingly satisfied, Cerigg affirmed their partnership and began to lay out a plan. He was currently in the process of haggling for a rusted mannikin that they would use to gauge the distance at which one could approach Phronesis’ hollows before being pulled into their inky blackness. Ugan had to admit the plan was sound, and the only problem with it was that there was to be a delay in the actual hunting of Phronesis because of it. Cerigg informed Ugan that he would continue to ply his trade in Ahm Araeng for the time being - he was not sure how much elbow grease it would take to get the mannikin up and running again, but he would let Ugan know when it was mostly operational.

As such, Ugan was left to his own devices once more. He had half a mind to try and hunt down this Phronesis himself and see what sort of mighty magic he employed, but he thought better of it, in the end. No need to risk his life unduly. He would need to find a better use for his time, then.

He was just setting to leave Mord Souq by way of the aetheryte, when someone spoke behind him.

“Excuse me.”

Ugan turned around to give his attention to the speaker, and found himself looking at a young hume woman with flaxen hair. She seemed unperturbed by his flat look, and carried a sword on her hip and a covered basket of some sundry goods. Despite the blade, she did not seem dressed for combat, and instead looked for all the world like some sort of nurse-maid. 

Ugan tilted his head to indicate he had heard her and was listening.

“Are you a sell-sword, perchance?” She asked, and Ugan simply nodded once. She reached into the basket and pulled out a very small pouch, undoubtedly filled with gil. “I need an escort to the Inn at Journey’s Head.” She hefted the pouch. “It is not much, but I can pay you in gil now and in a hot meal when we arrive.”

Ugan considered her offer, and also considered a few choice responses to it. He had not been paid so little for his services since before the slaying of Ifrit, and he had half a mind to be insulted by the offer. It stood to reason that this girl did not know who he was - only that he looked the part of a mercenary. He considered simply turning her down. He considered pointing her towards Cerigg.

“...Where is this place?” He asked instead, and the girl blinked up at him.

“Ah… South of here. It is a small camp ensconced within a rock formation…” She trailed off as though there was more to say, but held her tongue. “About half a day’s travel. You can actually see the top of the spires from here.”

Ugan held out his hand for the pouch.

“Very well.” He told her. With a look of muted surprise, she dropped the pouch into his hand. 

“Oh… Thank you. There have been alarming tales of Sin Eaters as of late and…” She shook her head as Ugan pocketed the pouch without counting the contents. “I’m Tesleen, by the way.”

“Ugan.” He offered. Then, “Lead on.”

She did just that with only a nod, and Ugan found himself shortly traversing the dunes of Ahm Araeng on foot only in her company. This Tesleen did not seem afraid, only cautious, and this is what undoubtedly had prompted her to seek out additional protection. She seemed disinclined towards engaging him in conversation, and spoke only in order to direct him or enlighten him about their surroundings. It became clear swiftly that this was a path she had often walked before.

As they walked, Ugan unscrewed the focus from atop his staff, and charged it with aether so that it floated above his shoulder. He drew the sword-cane sheathed within the instrument with a flourish, a motion that earned him a curious look from Tesleen. He returned the remainder of his staff-made-sheath to his belt, and held his blade pommel-up and at the ready. It would not do to be caught unawares, and he had too much pride to fail even the simplest of tasks due to negligence. He reasoned his crimson duelist training struck the most obvious balance between obliterative firepower and defensive potential. Ready for anything.

He ensured his focus was dually aspected, and they travelled on.

As it turned out, Ugan found himself fending off local wildlife more than he did Sin Eaters for the majority of their journey. Tesless explained that the agitated creatures were due to an increased number of active Eaters, and Ugan found himself intrigued by her practical knowledge of the creatures. 

“You make this trek often.” Ugan observed. “Do the eaters trouble you often as well?”

Tesleen shook her head.

“The Cardinal Virtue, Phronesis, has stirred them into something of a frenzy.” She explained. “Normally I make this trip alone.”

“Brave.” Ugan noted flatly. Tesleen hummed.

“Maybe. I cannot afford protection each time I go out. Money is set aside only if the need is exceptional.” She explained with a small sigh. “Though perhaps-”

Ugan sensed it before he saw it, and dashed forward to shove Tesleen to the ground. She made a startled noise, even as Ugan brought his blade up to parry the descending sword of the winged eater. The clash of steel rang a clarion call through the hills, and the lifeless, stone face of the eater stared down at him impassively. Ugan growled at it, keeping both his hand on the hilt and flat of his blade, as he shoved the creature away with all of his strength. Forced back, the creature flapped its wings and alighted some distance away, raising its sword. Ugan stepped forward to stand between Tesleen and the creature, and brought focus to hilt.

A beam of light emanated from the creature’s blade, though it was met by a burst of earth magic and stopped short. The Eater, intent on making use of Ugan’s delayed ability to cast, charged forward - only to be met by a blast of lightning magic that sent it tumbling into the dunes. Ugan sent a barrage of quickly timed, oppositely aspected spells at the creature, giving it no time at all to mount a proper offense, as it raised its porcelain shield to protect itself from the onslaught. Ugan could feel the aether within himself reaching a fever pitch, so he shoved his rapier into the ground and, hands over his focus, and conjured forth blue-white blades of unaspected aether to assault the creature from all sides. The Eater raised its shield and wings to weather the storm.

Ugan used this opportunity to dash under its guard, and plunge his blade deep into the creature's chest. His charge was swiftly followed by a cascade of crimson light as he expelled his aether in a raging torrent, before kicking off the wounded monster. He turned over in air, landed on his feet, and brought focus to hilt once more channeling the remaining ambient aether of his attacks into a devastating explosion that rent the Eater to pieces.

He turned around to regard Tesleen as stony chunks of Sin Eater rained down around him. She appeared unharmed, but completely shocked. He approached, and offered his hand to help her up. The basket had been knocked from her grip, but the contents remained safe within. She took his hand, and dusted the sand off her skirt as she stood.

“...I’m beginning to think I underpaid you.” She said breathlessly.

“Yes.” Ugan confirmed. “Though I won’t change our agreement now.” He nodded southward. “Lead on.” She gave him a look like she did not know what else to say, and so instead opted to simply do as she was told. 

The rest of their travel was uneventful, and, as promised, only half a day had passed since they had departed Mord Souq. Ugan found his eyes drawn constantly to the enormous, shining wall of crystalline light that loomed in the distance. It put him ill at ease, both for the obvious reasons and because of something… else. Something about it seemed familiar. Haunting. Tesleen caught him staring at it.

“First time out this close to it?” She asked conversationally. Ugan glanced at her, and nodded. “We’re at the edge of the Empty now. Everything on the other side of that wall is a wasteland.” She shook her head sadly. “I suppose that’s why they come here.”

“...They?” Ugan prompted, curious. She gave him a strange sort of look.

“...You don’t know, do you?” She murmured. “Most everyone has heard of someone who ends up here, or knows someone who knows someone. I didn’t think…” She shook her head. “Let me explain.”

She went on to tell Ugan about the afflicted, whose aspects were tilted irrevocably towards the light. There was no cure, and so those who dwelt at the Inn saw to their needs as best they could, so that they could pass the remainder of their lives in comfort. Though she did not say it, Ugan surmised they also saw to the grisly work of ending their lives before they turned into Eaters. All in all, it seemed a fairly thankless and demanding job.

It reminded him strongly of the thankless and demanding job of the Warrior of Light.

Ugan expressed both understanding of her duty, and informed her that he was not at all bothered by entering a home for the sick. He had agreed to lead her the whole way and he would see that duy fulfilled. Entering the shaded encampment was something of a relief, even if calling the accommodations ‘sparse’ was an overstatement. Ugan gazed around at the listless faces and empty eyes of the patients, and though he felt a twinge of pity for the suffering people, it spurred him not at all to action. Tesleen distributed the goods she had purchased amongst the other carers, who gave him guarded, but polite, greetings.

Evidently, Tesleen could not condone this, and began regaling those present with the story about how he had single-handedly slain that Eater not an hour prior and saved her life. Tesleen was, apparently, not given to exaggeration, and there was no small amount of appreciation sent Ugan’s way, and their demeanor toward him warmed considerably.

He could have done without it.

He was making ready to take his leave, but Tesleen reminded him that the second part of their arrangement - a hot meal - was still yet to come, and she insisted he stay just long enough to prepare it for him. Ugan’s desire to be alone warred with his curiosity over what Tesleen would make. In the end, as he had nothing else pressing to see too, he decided to stay. 

Unsurprisingly, Tesleen prepared a hearty, simple stew of popotoes and a meat Ugan was unfamiliar with. Curbed from the local wildlife, no doubt. What it lacked in flair and flavor it made up for in body and warmth. As far as meals went, it was exactly what one could expect from a derelict camp in the middle of the desert, and Ugan had learned long ago to appreciate food for what it was.

“Well cooked.” Ugan complimented as he set his bowl down. Tesleen had shared the meal with him, though they had eaten mostly in silence. She had watched him nearly the entire time, with an intensity that bordered on being impolite. Still, she smiled at the compliment.

“You seem more than a typical sell-sword.” She noted.

“You’d be right.” Ugan told her, and rolled his shoulder. “Though for now, I am just that. You need not know else about me.”

“What if I’d like to know more about you?” She prodded, and Ugan held up his hand. 

“Then take your inquiries elsewhere.” He brooked no argument, and she seemed a little put out, but she accepted it with grace. Instead, she glanced over where several patients were sitting quietly. Notably among them was a young boy - the only child. A drahn, with alabaster skin and a stoic expression. Unchanging. Silent.

“You know, when you dispatched that Eater, I half-believed you were the Warrior of Darkness.” Tesleen chuckled, even as she watched the patients sadly. At the mention of the mythical figure, Ugan hummed.

“This is my second time hearing about him.” Ugan told her, leaning back in the wooden chair and folding his arms. He did not mention that it was also his second time being compared to him. “A popular tale, is it?”

“A bedtime story, really.” Tesleen told him, and closed her eyes.

“‘Warrior of Darkness, servant of death,  
take care of our souls at our dying breath.  
Let sinner and eaters of sin go with thee,  
that all may return to the sunless sea.’”

As she spoke, Ugan was struck by a sense of vertigo, and it seemed to him that there was a second voice layered over hers, saying the same thing. His head rang as though he was experiencing an Echo vision, but reality swiftly righted its hold over him. He did his best not to betray his discomfort - it would be better if Tesleen did not start asking after his health. Still… he had never experienced an Echo vision like that. Had it even been…?

“He sounds like a stand-up fellow.” Ugan managed to say drily. Tesleen laughed, unaware of his dizzy spell.

“I suppose he’s not the most flattering person to be compared to.” She admitted. “Though I’ve always liked the idea that he treats everyone the same.”

“I’ve certainly been compared to worse things.” Ugan said, and stood up. Without thinking about what he was doing, he reached into his pocket and produced the pouch of gil she had given him earlier. He tossed it onto the table. Tesleen looked at it, aghast, and shook her head firmly.

“No - you saved my life. You must-” Ugan waved his hand at her dismissively.

“I do not need such a small sum.” He told her frankly. “Slaying the eater was reward enough.”

She stared at the pouch with unshed tears, before looking up at him.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

Ugan grunted and, without a further word, turned to take his leave. Thankfully, she did not call out to him or try to stop him. He hated when they did that.

Tesleen’s task had proven to be an interesting diversion, what with it taking him to a previously unexplored corner of Ahm Araeng. Delphyne may be interested in the work these people were doing here, bleeding heart that she was, and Honey could possibly be persuaded to consider funding a caravan that went from Mord Souq to the Inn. Interestingly, the place had an aetheryte, though he saw no one use it in the short time he was there. Perhaps it was only for patients.

And the Warrior of Darkness… This was the second time he had heard of it, and the second time it had given him a strange feeling. This time, accompanied by some sort of premonition. He did not recognize the second voice, but somehow felt that he should…

Mysteries upon mysteries.

He decided to take the aetheryte back to the Crystarium, as he had spent quite enough time on the road recently and could do with a visit to his accommodations at the Pendants and the associated bath. When he arrived he, fortunately, did not run into anyone he knew directly. No one from the source, at any rate. The manager of the Pendants greeted him cordially, and offered to take him up to his room. Ugan declined, and simply asked for the keys, which he was given. As he climbed the stairs, a bone deep weariness - despite the fact that his bones were not technically real - set into him. Perhaps some time with the curtains drawn would do him some good.

Upon entering the room, Ugan unclasped his gauntlets, and tossed them upon the bed. Then, he shrugged off his coat. Thus unburdened, he poured himself a glass of water from the nearby pitcher, when he spied something atop his chest of drawers. An envelope. He frowned and, after filling his cup, picked up the letter and examined it. It was addressed to him, certainly, and written in neat script, but it left no indication as to who had sent it.

Ugan drained his cup and tore the envelope open.

Within was a letter from… Minfilia. The new one. He frowned as he read it. The girl indicated that she was grateful to him for helping Thancred rescue her, though she was not certain how to go about showing it. Thancred had suggested that she write him a letter telling him so, and she had opted to do just that. She prattled on with additional information about her travels, how Thancred had told her of her legacy, and how he was teaching her how to defend herself. She mentioned that he was a demanding master, but a fair one, and she asked if Ugan knew any way to get on his good side.

There were a few more lines, though she indicated that she could not tell him where they were, exactly, in case the letter was intercepted by the Eulmorans that hunted her. Then, she wished him well and bid him write her back and give the letter to the Exarch.

Ugan set the letter down and put it out of his mind. He had better things to do than act as a penpal to a child.

He bathed promptly, laundered his clothing, and cleaned his armor. He examined his weapon for damage, cleaned that as well, and meditated in the still darkness of his room, alone. Then, he lay down and allowed himself a few hours sleep, before the restlessness inherent in his being forced him out of bed once more. He splashed some water on his face, called for some food to be brought to his room from the Stairs, and checked his weapon again in a fit of pique.

When the food arrived, he ate it.

As he drummed his fingers upon the table, he came swiftly to the conclusion that he did not, in fact, have anything better to do than act as a penpal to a child. Honey dismissing him from her service opened up his itinerary considerably, and as Cerigg was working on acquiring a mannikin, he had no other pressing matters to attend to. He had spoken with the Exarch, and their plan would not go forward until after Berry had been successfully summoned. With nothing to occupy his time, Ugan found himself at a loss. On the source, there had always been… something to do. Even his interest in fishing and cooking had been born of a utilitarian desire to sustain himself during their Doman expedition. There had been no free time. Always a primal to slay, a threat to face, a foe to destroy. Ever since the banquet… The Steps, Thordan, Nidhogg, Alexander, Shinryu, Omega, Yotsuyu, Zenos… on and on, it had gone.

And now he was idle.

He picked up a quill, and wrote a brief message to the young girl, answering some of her questions. Then, he shrugged his coat back on, eschewing the gloves, and exited his room. On his way out of the Pendants, he bid the manager bring the missive to the Exarch. The man obliged, and Ugan made for the Stairs.

As ‘evening’ was winding down when Ugan had arrived and it had been several hours since, it was now well past ‘midnight’. The Crystarium ran on a strict schedule that mirrored what a typical day would look like, though the Stairs, like most bars, were open around the clock. Ugan had availed himself of the quiet of the early hours here infrequently, but now, with nothing to occupy his time, he felt drawn here again. In truth, the only matter of any import to him left unresolved was the mystery of Cyella.

Predictably, she was present. Ugan had not spent enough time in the Crystarium to ascertain what schedule she abided to, but it seemed she worked double shifts during the busiest hours of the midday and the slow hours of the would-be midnight. As Ugan walked up the stairs, Cyella gave him a pointed look, entirely without surprise or sorrow. It startled a laugh out of him as he strode up to the bar and took a seat.

“Been practicing?” He asked, putting an elbow on the bar. Cyella shrugged.

“Perhaps I’ve grown used to the idea of your presence.” She told him simply. She was drying off a mug with a rag, though it looked to be a totally unnecessary effort. Everything seemed well enough in order, and she was simply holding down the fort until Glynard returned in the morning. 

“Dangerous, that.” Ugan told her, and the statement was punctuated by a snore from the opposite side of the bar. Ugan craned his head to see that, face down on the wood, lay a sleeping dwarf. A hammer the same size as they were took up an adjacent seat, and the sounds of their sleeping were only slightly muffled by the enormous, bearded helmet they wore. Ugan raised an eyebrow at Cyella, who shrugged.

“Giott.” She said by way of introduction. “A hunter of another Cardinal Virtue. She seeks a healer of consummate skill to assist her, though has yet to find one.” She eyed Ugan speculatively as she said this, and he shook his head.

“I’ll handle only one Virtue at a time” He told her flatly. “Though I know someone who may be interested in helping.” Delphyne would need some time to get acclimated, but she rarely wasted an opportunity to hone her art. She was competitive, that one, and took Ugan’s blithe disregard for her craft as a challenge.

Constantly.

Cyella hummed. “Well, aren’t you well connected.” She placed the mug behind the bar with a dozen of its mirrors, and let the rag hang over her shoulder. “What can I get you?”

“Conversation.” Ugan told her simply, but paused thoughtfully for a moment. “And an espresso.” She raised an eyebrow at him as he produced enough gil to cover his purchase, but began preparing his drink anyway.

“Not that I’m unused to providing conversation for my patrons...” Cyella told him, tone casual. “But why seek me out? Surely your friend the Exarch would provide more suitable company.” Steam rose from the cup as she finished the drink, and placed it on the counter in front of Ugan. He left it alone for the moment, regarding her placidly.

“You presume much.” He told her. “The Exarch and I are allies, not friends.” He tapped his finger on the counter, and the look she gave him was measured, but not accusatory. She did not seem to have anything to say to that, and Ugan took a moment to look her up and down. She still held herself with that same relaxed tension that belied a readiness for action. She still had just the barest glint in her eye that hinted at knowledge beyond her bounds.

And there was, of course, the matter of those strange Echo visions.

“To answer your question - you are a mystery I’m keen to solve.” He picked up the cup and raised it to his lips, letting the aroma waft over him before taking a sip. “And I find myself with nothing better to do.” She gave him a flat, unimpressed look that almost made him bark another laugh.

“That’s a piss-poor attempt at flirtation.” She pointed out. “One of the worst I’ve heard, and I serve drunks all day.” Ugan snorted, and set down the cup.

“It is not my intention to woo you.” He met her unimpressed stare with one of his own. “Though if the attention pleases you, I can use that to my advantage.”

“I wonder, when was the last time someone was pleased by your ‘attention’?”

“Scathing.”

“From what I’ve seen and heard, you’ve all the personality of a wounded bear.”

“Mm, and a hundredfold as dangerous.”

“I’ve heard that too.”

“With ears like those...” 

“Oh, very clever.”

“Not my finest, admittedly.” Ugan conceded, taking a sip of the espresso once more. While he had enjoyed their brief repartee - and from the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, Cyella had as well - he had come here for a more specific purpose. Though he did have to wonder about her need to immediately deflect. He needed to get to the bottom of these Echo visions he had been having about her.

He wondered how simple that would be.

“So, you used to be an adventurer?” He ventured.

“What makes you think that?” At the question, Ugan rolled his eyes.

“Your deflection has been charming, but I’d thank you to at least humor me.” He told her tersely, and she arched an eyebrow at him, before turning around and tending to tidying up what little mess she had made preparing his drink.

“No.” She said, with a note of finality. Ugan pursed his lips.

“Very well…” He murmured, and drained the rest of the cup. “I had hoped for compliance, but I am not above bribery.” Cyella spared him a sardonic backwards glance.

“Oh, pay me for my secrets will you?”

“A trade.” Ugan offered. “One of my secrets for one of yours.”

“What makes you think I want your secrets?”

Ugan felt the urge to snap at her, but bit his tongue. Whatever the reason behind the disjointed, nonsensical Echo visions, he would get to the bottom of it. And then he would put this behind him. She was proving wholly uncooperative, however, and the sass had long since lost its luster.

“I have the ability to see into the past.” Ugan explained, without preamble. He saw her eyes flash as he spoke, and though her expression remained bored and sardonic, he knew he had her interest. “Though it is fickle. And I have seen into your past.”

“Quite the claim.” She told him, though to his trained ear, her disinterest sounded affected. Ugan closed his eyes, doing his best to remember what he had seen. He hummed.

“A grassy meadow on a warm spring day… white, marble columns in the distance. Distinct architecture. You were taking your ease with friends… or family. Someone important to you sat beneath the shade of a nearby tree, reading -” The sound of shattering glass gave him a start, and he opened his eyes to see what had happened. Cyella was standing stock still, her back still to him, but the container she had been cleaning had fallen from her grasp and shattered upon the ground.

There was an extended silence, punctuated only by the onerous sound of Giott sleeping.

“...Clumsy me.” Cyella whispered, eventually. Ugan sighed and wiggled his fingers, magically lifting the shards of glance and returning the pitcher to a state of repair. Still, Cyella did not move.

“I take it-” Ugan began, but a shuddering intake of breath on her part stopped him in his tracks.

“Leave it alone.” She demanded, voice low. “The past. Leave it alone. Focus on the future.”

“...This is not something I can ignore.” He responded firmly.

“And why not?” She countered.

“It is the will of the Mothercrystal.” Ugan explained, tired. Resigned. Never had he been given visions through the Echo that did not pertain to some task. Some new threat, or some wrong to be righted. Ever stumbling over the foibles of mortals. “I am not one to defy her.”

“The Mothercrystal be damned.” Cyella bit out, with all the venom and anger that Ugan felt. “I will tell you this once - I will never speak to you about what you’ve seen. Never.”

Ugan pushed the pitcher towards her. A small noise. She tensed, but then turned and took it from the counter without looking at him. Ugan watched her place the pitcher back behind the counter, and-

The Echo took him.

_Sunlight streamed in from a half-opened window. Early morning. Cyella lay half asleep until the rays struck her eyelids, and they fluttered open while she made a disgruntled noise. The empty space beside her on the spacious bed was still warm - recently vacated. A pair of spectacles rested on a nearby nightstand._

_A voice called from another room, echoing along the polished marble floors of the bedchamber._

_Cyella sat up, adjusting her nightgown, and placed her feet on a soft rug. She glanced up just as-_

_-carrying a carafe of-_

_-the investigation the night before sat-_

_-there would be time later for-_

Ugan came to with a grunt, his eyes closed tightly as though he was shielding himself from the ever-present light - despite the Crystarium’s canopy. Pain lanced through his head, but quickly subsided. Once more, that vision had been hazy and strange, barely coherent, and of little value. He opened his eyes.

Cyella was staring at him, her countenance grim and angry. Ugan challenged the glare.

“...Save your anger. It’s not as if I have any say in the matter.” He growled. She lifted her chin, but the rage in her eyes cooled somewhat. Ugan could almost hear her warring with herself, so he offered her a smirk. “Do you want to know what I saw?”

Her eyes flashed.

Across the counter, Giott snored.

“No.” She said, finally. “Are you having anything else?” She turned around once more, tending to the bar. Ugan sighed heavily, and stood up.

“Disappointment, apparently.” He told her, and turned to leave. “We’ll speak again.” He promised, though the way he said it made it sound like a threat. Cyella hummed noncommittally, and Ugan left her to her ministrations. As he passed under the boughs of the trees on his walk back to the pendants, the light filtered down from above, and he glared up at it.

It made his stomach churn unpleasantly.

Just the light, and nothing more.


	10. The Gentle Darkness

Delphyne, as it turned out, was indeed interested in both assisting Giott and learning of the afflicted at the Inn at Journey’s Head. She had a brief bout of questions about both, which Ugan answered to the best of his ability, before she resolved to go speak with the dwarf about the Virtue.

Before they could leave, however, they were accosted by Kiora.

In all honesty, Ugan had forgotten they were bonded. They spent a great deal of time apart from each other, and their demeanors were so different and their behaviors so subtle that it had escaped his mind. He had absolutely no interest in what was turning into an incredibly heartfelt reunion, however, and took his leave almost immediately. He had no interest in tears or embraces.

Kiora made kissing sounds after him as he made his retreat. He scowled, but did not turn around and give her the satisfaction of his reaction.

Ugan decided it would be best to be quit of the Crystarium after his brief respite, and so he took to the road once more. Slaying Sin Eaters proved to be quite the balm for his restless mind, and he lost himself in the violence for a time, though he found himself further afield than he ever had before. So far afield, in fact, that he soon stumbled upon the border of the Greatwood. In the distance, he could make out great tangles of trees and dense foliage. The canopy appealed to him, and he wondered what darkness the deep areas of the wood would afford him.

He weighed it against potentially becoming the target of Y’shtola’s ire, and decided he might as well risk it.

Rak’tika was lush with life, though it was still muted and stilted in its own ways. Absolutely overrun with flora, ruins dotted the landscape and Ugan found himself constantly on guard to avoid being ambushed by a savage fiend. The wildlife were almost a match for the Eaters, and likely would have been if the Eaters had not been made from the wildlife, and therefore made more dangerous for it. Still, the canopy provided a respite from the incessant blaze that so accosted him, and for that, he was grateful.

Not that he would admit that aloud.

Before long he came across another ruin. This one, however, was wholly different from the rest. For one, it was wooden. For another, it was recent - crafted after the Flood, clearly.

Lastly, it appeared to have recently been burned down.

Ugan found himself wandering the burned out wreckage of what had once been some sort of community. Strange. He was aware people lived in the Greatwood, but he did not know they had… built anything. In his mind's eye, he had pictured them living off the land in canopy-top structures woven amongst the trees. This settlement had the distinct look of someone attempting to assert their dominion over the forest. Non-native.

The forest was not wont to respond to such an intrusion with fire, however. He wondered what had happened here.

He paused as the sound of arrows whistling through the trees reached him. He supposed he was about to find out.

Ugan carefully sidestepped the three arrows that were hurtling towards him, drawing his staff with a flourish as he did so. He scanned the trees for his assailants, even as they rained more arrows down upon him. He slammed his staff into the ground to erect a swift, glowing white ward, deflecting the projectiles. As the arrows splintered and fell to the ground, he caught sight of the first of his assassins. A tall elven man draped in black clothing, with sunken eyes and a grim set to his mouth. He was several dozen fulms away, and nocking another arrow.

Ugan stared at him, waiting for some prompting from the Blessing of Light. Maybe it would demand he show them mercy. Maybe it would demand he not harm them at all.

No such prompting came.

Ugan blasted another volley out of the air with a gust of wind, pausing just long enough to be sure. Then, anticipation welled within him. These unfortunate souls had strayed from the love of the Mothercrystal, and she no doubt wished them returned to the lifestream. Those were the only times Ugan was ever left unchecked, unleashed.

Oh, he would savor this.

Whoever these people were, they seemed content to stay at a distance and attempt to deplete his aether reserves with a constant rain of arrows. Ugan aspected his focusing crystal towards Black Magic, and coated his body in a manaward. He felt the impact of the next volley, but they bounced harmlessly off his flesh.

Ugan could not stop a grin from spreading on his face.

“Three as though one…” He murmured, drawing enough aether from his surroundings to lift him off the ground. The deep, purple energies of black magic swirling around him. Three spheres of baleful light manifested in tandem around him. He spread his arms wide, and the spheres began rapidly spinning as his feet returned to the ground. “Triplecast!” He shouted, and then charged forward.

Though he could only see the one, he knew he had accomplices. At least two. They would be close by, as each volley of arrows had come from the same direction. Still, he relished the look of surprise on the man’s face as Ugan sprinted towards him. To his credit, he stood his ground and nocked another arrow, firing it directly at Ugan. It bounced harmlessly off the manaward, and Ugan was swiftly closing the distance - close enough now to hear the man curse and discard his bow. He opted instead for the spear at his back, and readied to meet Ugan in close combat.

Ugan tapped into on the spheres of power he had summoned, drew up roughly ten fulms short of the man, and extended his arm. Even from a distance, he felt the air grow cold from such a heavy concentration of aether. The man blanched from it, but it was already too late.

Ugan made a fist.

An enormous block of ice materialized around the man instantaneously, his face a rigid mask of horror as it entombed him.

There was a strangled cry somewhere to Ugan’s left, no doubt reacting to their comrade’s sudden, frozen demise. Ugan whirled on the sound, but saw no one. Hiding in the foliage, no doubt. But they had made the mistake of making any sound at all. He thrust his staff forward, and a trail of lightning bolts manifested, blasting scorch marks into the surrounding terrain and flying away from him at an incredible speed. He heard a shriek as the seeking tendrils of levin found their mark, and then there was stillness once more.

An arrow, hidden by the sound of torrential lightning, slammed into Ugan’s back, knocking the wind out of him. The manaward had absorbed most of the impact, but it had still pierced him. A lance of pain shot through him, and he used it to ground himself. He managed to stagger to one side as another arrow flew towards him, and he raised his eyes to meet the furious gaze of the last of his attackers. A hyuran woman, teeth clenched in rage. 

Ugan simply pointed at her, and the third sphere of power he had conjured winked out of existence as he utilized the aether.

In her final moment, she managed to fire another arrow.

Then, a cacophonous inferno erupted around her, and she vanished into the flames. Her final arrow could not escape the heat either, and burned to a crisp ere it ever reached him. She had not even enough time to make a sound, and when the inferno dissipated, all that was left was smouldering foliage and a greasy, black smear on the ground.

Ugan let out a sigh, and reached up to dislodge the arrow from his back…

Only to be stopped painfully by the feeling of bones grinding against intrusive metal and wood. The arrow had lodged itself betwixt his shoulder blade and spine, it would seem. Annoying, but manageable. He would need some time to recover his aether, but… hm. 

Ugan approached the frozen assailant, and inspected the man’s arrows. With a small curse, he realized simply pulling the thing out was going to cause more damage than it had entering him. Cruel barbs littered the arrowheads. In truth, Ugan applauded their penchant for causing harm - whoever they had been - but it was inconvenient. He could not safely remove the arrow by brute forcing it with magic, though he suspected he could knit together whatever damage it caused. It would probably be better to be safe than sorry, however, and it was not as though he was in immediate peril.

He would need to find some help.

Fortunately, it did not seem he would have to wait long to find it. As he stalked away from the scene of the battle, there was a great scrambling noise, followed by a yelp of surprise, and a young drahn woman tumbled out of the brush not but five yalms in front of him. She was not dressed like the others who had attacked him. Instead, she sported some sort of breathable, black robe that was ritualistically cut upon the top in order to, it seemed, expose as much skin as possible. She was dark of skin, with shoulder length hair.

The Blessing of Light shackled him, and he felt his bloodlust recede.

Still, the woman regarded him mutely with a mask of fear, before stumbling to her feet and attempting to beat a hasty retreat.

Ugan reached forth with his aether, enveloped her, and dragged her back to him with a speed that caused her to cry out in alarm. Her unwilling flight deposited her at his feet, and she kept her head bowed.

“Please, I-” She began. Ugan just rolled his eyes, pain making him more irritable, and grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her to her feet.

“I’m not going to harm you.” He assured her gruffly. “I’ve an arrow in my back, and need it tended to. Are you a healer?”

She stared up at him, wide-eyed, before shaking her head. Ugan clenched his teeth.

“Can you lead me to one?” He asked instead, and she hesitated. Skittish, this one. Although, were he in her place, he doubted he would want to lead someone who had just butchered three people to his companions. A different approach, then. “Alright. I’m looking for a mystel woman. White hair, white eyes. Brooks no foolishness. A powerful mage.”

At this, the woman’s resolve seemed to find her.

“Why… why are you looking for her?” She asked, suspicious. Ugan blinked. So, this woman knew Y’shtola? Not only that, but she liked her well enough to try and ascertain his intentions before he was brought before her. Interesting. Y’shtola is not what Ugan would call the most personable of the Scions, but she did have a way of winning people to her side.

“She is an ally of mine.” Ugan told her. “I mean her no harm.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then gasped.

“The drahn mage with the marked face!” She exclaimed, finally relaxing. “Master Matoya told us about you. About all of her companions. She said one day you would bring…” She looked about excitedly, though it was quickly tempered with disappointment. “...A dwarf, dark of hair and strong of arm. Today is not that day, it seems.” Ugan raised an eyebrow as she spoke. Master Matoya, was it? Oh, that was rich. He wondered for what reason Y’shtola had hid her true name.

“No.” Ugan confirmed. “I am simply passing through, and ran afoul of…” He waved his hand towards the site of the battle. The action sent another lance of pain through his body, and he grunted.

“The Children of the Everlasting Dark.” She informed him, frowning. “Fanatics and bandits. You did the Greatwood a favor getting rid of them.” Ugan hummed at that, but did not bother committing it to memory. The world was full of fanatics and bandits. They would fall like wheat before the scythe of the Warior of Light, in due time. 

“I’ve an arrow in my back.” Ugan explained again. She had the decency to appear shamefaced at being reminded. His shoulder was beginning to swell and stiffen, but he did not believe he was losing blood. “Perhaps you can tell me more after you’ve taken me to… Master Matoya.”

“Of course.” She agreed immediately. “It’s um… this way.” And she began trotting the direction she had been fleeing before Ugan had accosted her. He followed. It was clear, however, that silence was not something the woman would allow for long, and she soon began speaking again. “I was gathering herbs when those Children came along. They did not see me, but I was unable to flee. That’s when they noticed you…” She trailed off for a moment. “Unfortunately for them. Are you in much pain?”

“No.” Ugan told her, though it was not entirely true. She simply nodded.

“It’s not far.” She assured him. “I’m called Wrendia, by the way. Of the Night’s Blessed.” Ugan made a curious noise, and she glanced back at him.

“The Night’s Blessed?” He prompted.

“Oh. We’re a small group that worships the boundless dark.” She told him, and then chuckled at his bemused expression. “I’m not very good at explaining it. Master Matoya will tell you more, I’m sure.” He certainly hoped so. Had Y’shtola fallen in with a cult? 

This, he had to see.

Before long, they came across lanterns hanging from the trees. They were of a strange design, reminiscent of the paper lanterns Ugan had seen so plentifully in Kugane, and they glowed with an umbral, purple gloom that seemed present despite the overwhelming light. Wrendia indicated that these lanterns indicated the presence of the Night’s Blessed close by.

“The entrance is just here - ah!” She startled as she turned the corner towards a rocky outcrop, and came face-to-face with a tall ronso man with shockingly white fur. The man seemed just as surprised as she was.

“Wrendia!” He exclaimed, and then caught sight of Ugan. “You’ve… brought someone? Were you not out searching for herbs?” Ugan gave the man a level once over as Wrendia explained what had transpired. Notedly, she failed to mention the arrow currently protruding from Ugan’s shoulder. As she spoke, the man became increasingly thoughtful.

“Just so? Well.” He declared as she finished the tale, turning to Ugan. “I am called Runar. Any friend of Master Matoya’s is a firm friend of ours.” Ugan introduced himself briefly, and Runar nodded. “I welcome you to Slitherbough. What hospitality we can offer is yours.” Ugan gestured vaguely, irritated.

“I’d simply like to be free of this arrow.” He explained. His shoulder was beginning to ache fiercely. Perhaps he should have simply taken his chances with his own magic.

“Arrow…?” Runar blinked, and Ugan turned his shoulder just enough to let the man get a look at it. He blanched once he saw it. “W-Wrendia, you did not mention our guest was injured!” Once more, the young woman had the presence of mind to look embarrassed.

“I… It slipped my mind! He’s been so stoic.” She attempted to explain, Runar shook his head.

“Nevermind that. Lead him inside, I shall go ahead and fetch Master Matoya.” Without another word, he vanished behind the stone. Wrendia bade Ugan forward, and he soon found himself traversing a cavernous tunnel.

What awaited him on the other side was impressive, if quaint. What appeared from the outside as an inhospitable rock hid within something of a grove. Doors had been built into the cave system, and people milled about - all dressed in that strange, revealing black garb - going about various tasks. Arms lay about, as though ready to be seized at a moment’s notice. A peaceful community, it seemed, but a forceful one. There was even an aetheryte. Interesting.

“Please tell me you have not come all the way here and taken an arrow to the shoulder on my account.” Y’shtola’s distinct, dry tone reached him, and he turned to appraise her evenly. She seemed not at all the worse for wear, though he wondered where she had acquired such… distinct attire. Had this been what that old crone in the hinterland had dressed like when she was younger?

“I have not come all the way here and taken an arrow to the shoulder on your account.” Ugan told her dutifully, if a tad monotone. Wrendia snickered, though a sharp gaze from Runar rendered her silent once more. For her part, Y’shtola simply smiled thinly.

“I will tend to my associate’s wounds. Runar, see to it that appropriate supplies are brought to my quarters.” She pointed at Ugan. “You. Follow me.” Ugan did as he was bade, and he soon found himself in a book-strewn hovel that would have made Urianger green with envy. It was spartan, but comfortable. Y’shtola bade him sit atop the only available chair, and he did so.

She hummed as she inspected the arrow.

“Careless.” She concluded. Ugan hummed, unwilling to agree with her verbally, even if he did so in private. Then, with no warning or gentility, she grabbed the shaft of the arrow and snapped it in half. Ugan hissed as the arrow jostled his shoulder, but refused to give her more satisfaction than that. “Take off the coat.” She ordered. “Carefully.” Ugan did as he was bade, albeit with no small amount of difficulty, as the thick leather of the coat was pinned loosely to his shoulder by the arrow. He had to settle for shrugging it off minutely, ilm by ilm, until he was able to work it free.

Meanwhile, Runar had come and gone with a variety of bandages and salves, and Y’shtola thanked him perfunctorily. They then had a short, whispered conversation, that Ugan had neither the ability or inclination to eavesdrop on. He kept his back to them both. After Runar departed, Y’shtola approached from behind and pressed an unkind finger against the mildly blood-damp silk of his shirt.

“Why are you here?” She asked, ever straightforward, and Ugan felt a tug at the nape of his neck as Y’shtola took a knife to his shirt.

“Pique, mostly.” He replied, scowling as his garment was ruined. He would be able to repair it later. Still… “My wanderings brought me here. Everything else was circumstance.”

“And why did you not tend to this wound yourself?”

“...It seemed unwise.” He told her, truthfully.

“And that has stopped you before?”

“It would not do for me to spill my life’s blood upon the floor of the forest because I was impatient.” Ugan told her testily. “Your people were well enough on hand to lead me to you, in any case.”

“...How surprisingly humble.” She noted, and Ugan felt the kiss of cold steel on his aggrieved shoulder. “This will hurt.” Y’shtola informed him, coolly.

“Noted.” Ugan growled, gritting his teeth.

Ugan would not call Y’shtola a sadist, but the detached precision with which she cut into his shoulder and excised the arrow was artistically efficient. One could almost be forgiven for assuming she enjoyed it. Ugan endured her ministrations stoically, though with his brow knit and teeth clenched. She had been right - it did hurt, but it was over swiftly. The cool magic of Y’shtola’s curative spell soon spilled over him. Soon after, his shoulder was sore, and a little stiff, but a few rolls of it proved it to be perfectly functional.

“How does a blind woman perform surgery with such precision?” Ugan asked. Y’shtola responded by lobbing a wet towel at his head.

“Clean yourself. There’s blood all down your back.” She ordered, ignoring his comment. Ugan glanced back at her, and saw he had her ornate sleeves rolled up. She was washing her hands in a basin of now fouled water.

Ugan cleaned his shoulder and back as best he could, and then set about magically stitching his shirt back together and shrugging it on. He sighed, facing the wall. Being wounded was irritating, if inevitable. Fortunately, it had been a simple thing to fix.

“...Matoya, was it?” He asked, shooting a sly look at the woman behind him. She glanced over at him as she dried off her hands, narrowing her eyes.

“The Night’s Blessed have a custom of never speaking their true names under the light.” She explained, ignoring the jab. “Superstitious, maybe, but they believe it gives the light power over them. They only speak their true names in ceremony, and in places where the light cannot reach.” She sighed, throwing the towel down on the nearby table. “They look to me for guidance, and it seems only fitting I abide by their faith.”

“And with all available titles to choose…” Ugan began, trailing off meaningfully.

“The concept of sentiment is not lost on you, so I shan’t pretend you aren’t goading me for no reason.” She quipped. Ugan held up a hand in surrender, and began to stand. She gave him a sharp look. “Sit. Give the magic time to settle.” While Ugan detested being browbeat, he was not in so foul a mood as to risk Y’shtola’s ire out of spite. Across the room, she folded her arms and leaned against the wall, scrutinizing him. “I find it hard to believe your arrival is simply coincidence.”

“Believe what you want.” Ugan told her, leaning back in his chair. It was to be a conversation, then. Y’shtola did not engage him in such often, given his predilection for sarcasm and misdirection. Even so, she had a knack for cutting the truth out of his words and piecing it together. “Honey released me from her immediate service pending Berry’s arrival, and my personal endeavors have been put on hold as well.” At the mention of Honey, Y’shtola’s eyes tightened. 

“Why Rak’tika, then?”

“I was interested mostly in the shade.” Ugan told her, becoming exasperated. “You suspect me of something - make yourself plain.” Y’shtola continued to stare at him, inscrutable, and raised her hand to one cheek. 

“Are you here at the behest of the Exarch?” She asked.

“No.”

“Honey, then.”

“No.”

“Urianger.”

“No one has sent me.” Ugan told her, adamant. “When last I spoke to Urianger, he seemed resigned to allow you your seclusion.”

“Very well.” She strode away from the wall, suddenly filled with purpose, and removed a book from the massive stacks of books that were piled in one corner of the room. “There is something I would discuss with you.” Ugan held up his hand to stop her, and she regarded him flatly, if at least a little curious.

“Urianger has already informed me of your proposal.” Ugan told her. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded and placed the book back.

“And?” She prompted.

“The plan is sound.” Ugan told her. “Honey and the Exarch have agreed to it as well.”

“...Interesting.” She stated, voice clipped. “What of your opinion?” Ugan rolled his eyes. What was this obsession with his opinion, recently? Every time he had offered his opinion on the Source, he had been levelled disgruntled stares and frowns.

“...The plan is sound.” Ugan repeated.

“It does not concern you?” Y’shtola pressed, and Ugan made a flippant gesture.

“I am aware of the risks, and remain unconcerned.” He told her. Y’shtola hummed, and tapped her cheek thoughtfully.

“Are you?” Y’shtola asked, and he just raised an eyebrow. “Aware of the risks.” She clarified. “All of them.” As she spoke, she began perusing the pile of books once more, evidently looking for a different tome. Ugan kept his peace, knowing full well the danger an abundance of light aether posed to his being. Y’shtola was being cryptic, however, and as usual, that intrigued him.

Eventually, she located the tome. It was passingly familiar, though it seemed aged. 

“An account,” Y’shtola declares, “written by one G’raha Tia, a student of baldesion and steward of the Crystal Tower before it passed into the Exarch’s care. It details an expedition led by the Warrior of Light into the Labyrinth of the Ancients, Syrcus Tower itself, and then… the World of Darkness.”

“I was there.” Ugan informed her, bored. Where was this going? That account was fairly new upon the Source, though the one she held appeared to be from the future-past, as it was aged well past its possible years. 

“This account contains the personal annotations of Unukalhai.” She explained, and Ugan cocked his head. Interesting… “Of note, he writes of how the World of Darkness came to be in the first place, going so far as to describe the force that changed his world as a ‘Flood of Darkness’.” She paused, to see if he had any input, but he simply waved her on. “The flood transformed the whole of the world into the state the Warrior of Light found it in - or in your case, returned to - when you infiltrated it. It stands to reason that a similar thing would have happened upon this shard had the flood not been stopped, though oppositely aspected. We know that the Flood of Light transformed those caught in its way into Sin Eaters, whose aetheric aspect was tilted overwhelmingly towards light. To wit, it can be inferred that the reverse was true for the once mortal denizens of the Void.”

In the wake of that explanation, silence filled the room, and Ugan frowned. That would mean…

“...You are suggesting that Voidsent were once mortal.” Ugan stated. “You are suggesting that I was once mortal.” But he shook his head. “Sin Eaters are mindless, however. As you can see, I am not.”

“The Sin Eaters we have encountered thus far are mindless.” Y’shtola corrected. “But they have not had the benefit of a millennia of existence - a fact that you have so often boasted of.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps given enough time, sufficiently powerful Sin Eaters would develop minds and personalities, as Voidsent such as yourself, Diabolos, and the Cloud of Darkness had.”

“...I have no recollection of this supposed mortal life.” Ugan growled, anger seeping into his voice. This was a ludicrous line of thought, with no basis in fact. 

“That stands to reason.” Y’shtola insisted. “The transformation is singularly traumatic and destructive. It destroyed your mortal body - would it not also destroy your mortal mind?” Ugan stood, suddenly and violent, knocking the chair over in the process.

“I was formed of the Void!” He roared, his face pulled into a snarl. He was. He was! He was Voidsent! Mighty, proud, and superior to these… mewling creatures, trapped in the mire of their physical existence. He… He…

_“I mistook you for someone else.”_

Cyella’s voice leapt unbidden to the forefront of his thoughts. Y’shtola stared at him, unyielding. He turned away, unable to bear her scrutiny. Hot blood pounded in his head from anger, and he was breathing heavily.

“This endeavor could kill you.” Y’shtola told him, voice firm. “It could leave you as you are. Or…” He heard her place the tome back atop the pile. “It could return you to how you were.”

“I was nothing before!” Ugan spat.

“Maybe.” Y’shtola agreed. “Though if you truly believe that, I must wonder why you are so angry.”

The silence fell heavy and tense, the only sound was the slowly receding blood in Ugan’s head as the rage pounded a rhythm against his skull. He choked it down.

“...You will see you are wrong, at the end of this.” Ugan told her. Y’shtola said nothing, but he could feel the weight of her gaze boring into his back. He… needed to change the subject. “These Children of the Everlasting Dark. Do you need them gone?” He wondered for half a moment if she would pursue her previous line of inquiry, but she had made her point.

“They are many. It would tax even your prodigious capability for violence to slay them all.” Y’shtola told him, apparently conceding the topic. “They are a problem, though they are not so much a problem that I need them rooted out.” She paused then, and the silence became suddenly unbearable. He would need to go by her in order to leave, but he suddenly felt raw and exposed in a way he was unused to. Perhaps it was the lack of his coat.

He busied himself putting it back on.

“Runar told me the Blessed’s priests sensed a great darkness within you.” Y’shtola commented, standing idly by the doorway, her tail swishing back and forth. “Compounded with Wrendia’s retelling of your ‘heroics’, they appear to be quite smitten with the idea of you, or so he says.”

“I seem to be having that effect on people.” Ugan muttered, sealing the hole the arrow made in his coat. He took a deep breath, and turned around to find that Y’shtola was staring at him, inscrutable. “Twice now I’ve been mistaken for the ‘Warrior of Darkness’.” He explained. Y’shtola tapped her chin once, and then gestured for him to explain further, and he described how both Minfilia and Tesleen had related the children’s tale to him. “Idle conjecture.” Ugan muttered dismissively, waving his hand. He would not be the beacon these people rallied around. That was Berry’s job.

“You’ll find the Warrior of Darkness is more than idle conjecture to the Night’s Blessed.” Y’shtola told him, eyes closed in thought. “You largely have their religion to thank for the perpetuation of the story, and the Warrior of Darkness holds a prominent place in the mythos of their faith.”

“This does not concern me.” Ugan told her firmly. It would not do to have him drawn in to be worshipped as some sort of woebegotten hero. 

“I am glad we agree.” Y’shtola told him drily. “The Night’s Blessed worship a gentler darkness than you embody. I fear you would disappoint them.”

“Perhaps.” Ugan said, finally dispelling whatever timidity had come over him and striding towards the door. He stopped in front of Y’shtola, and held her gaze. He was not sure whom he was proving his temerity to, but he felt the need to prove it. “There is only one darkness, however.” He tilted his head towards the door. “To believe otherwise is foolishness.”

“...We’ll see, at the end of this.” Y’shtola told him, throwing his words back in his face. “It’s best that you go.”

Ugan gave her a curt nod, and made for the door. As his hand reached for it, he was once again struck by the absurd urge to thank the Scion. As though she had done anything for him that was not out of self interest. It behooved her to keep him in good health. She had certainly not been gentle. She had…

 _She helped you._ A voice whispered, drowned out by the denials in his head and the cynicism in his heart.

“...You have my thanks.” Ugan muttered, though he did not look back. He said it almost before he could think about it any more. He said it before he could stop himself, and thus trapped, he pressed on. “For the arrow.”

Without waiting for a response, he exited in a manner that he certainly hoped would not be misconstrued as retreat. He made promptly for the aetheryte, squinting at the sudden brightness even. He was struck by the desire to slink back once more into Y’shtola’s cave, but the thought of her scorn spurred him forward. He had been away for nearly a week - perhaps Cerigg had had some luck with the Mannikin. He would need to check in.

Ugan reached his hand towards the aetheryte, ignoring how activity had stopped around him as he strode towards it. He reached his hand out…

“I’m sorry, I…” A breathless voice broke his concentration, and he had to shut his eyes to stop from snapping at… whoever it was. They were addressing him. He knew they were addressing him. He glanced backwards silently, over one shoulder, and levelled his best baleful glare at them. It was a hume woman, and the way she looked at him, one would think the sun had risen.

Or perhaps the moon.

“I’m sorry to disturb you.” She went on, oblivious to the black feelings churning in Ugan’s gut. She smiled at him. “I just… wanted to thank you, for helping Wrendia.”

“...She was of more help to me.” Ugan muttered. A true statement, but not one he thought much about before he said it.

“She’ll be delighted to know you said so.” The woman told him warmly. “I’m Toddia. If you ever find yourself in the Greatwood, I’d love to know more about your travels.”

Ugan turned away from her.

 _I fear you would disappoint them._

“...I am not who you think I am.” Ugan told her.

“...Maybe not.” She replied, and though he could not see her, she sounded… thoughtful. “But you could be. And if I kept my silence, I know I’d regret it.”

Strangely, Ugan could understand that. It was not often he related to mortals.

“Then go, without regrets.” He dismissed her, and reached his hand towards the aetheryte.

Rak’tika had not been the balm upon his light-burned psyche that he had hoped it was. He would need to find the solace of darkness elsewhere.


	11. Volatile

Ugan spent several restless days locked in his room at the Pendants, attempting to shut out the light. Even in literal darkness, there was no escaping the ever-present press of aether that suffused every corner of this blighted world. If he did not occupy himself constantly, the light invaded his mind and heart, seemingly shedding light on all of his past thoughts and actions. As though illuminating them made it stand to reason that they bore further scrutiny. He acted willfully - decisively. He was without attachment or sentiment. He was the iron, unfeeling rock that moored the feckless mortals with which he associated.

Such conviction rang hollow, recently. As though he was going through the paces. 

He spent more of his time asleep. In his dreams, at least, there was still darkness eternal.

It was during his slumber that a resonance that set his teeth on edge echoed through his horns and down his spine. He woke immediately, and sat up. The feeling was distinct - a pulsing of aether that always echoed from the Crystal Tower whenever the Exarch performed a summoning… but it had been scarcely two weeks since he had summoned Alphinaud. Had he streamlined the process? Was he being reckless? Ugan arose from abed, and splashed some water on his face. Whatever the case, he would not be caught lying down if the Warrior of Light was summoned.

He shrugged on his coat, grabbed his staff, and promptly made for the Crystal Tower.

In his haste, he forgot he had essentially been sheltering in the dark for more than a handful of days, and when he stepped outside, the light seared into his vision as if to blind him. Staggered, he raised his hand to his face with a growl. Blinded as he was, he could not very well make it to the tower. Or at least, he could not make it to the tower in a timely manner. If he was not careful he would go over the railing of one of the wells that led to the lake below. 

“Careful, sinner.” He heard a gruff voice to his left murmur, at the same time a strong hand grabbed his shoulder. “Close your eyes and look up. Helps them adjust faster.” Reluctant to be coddled but eager to be on his way, Ugan did as he was bade until his eyes ceased stinging from the unwelcome glow. He was able to squint well enough to see after a few moments, and glanced over at the man who had assisted him. He could not see much, only that he had short-cropped hair, wore dark green armor, and had a giant blade strapped to his back.

The man nodded at him.

“Rush headlong into the light at your peril.” He warned. Ugan just nodded at him mutely, and the man returned it, clapped him on the shoulder, and left.

...A strange encounter, but he had not the time to dwell on it. The edges of his vision were still a little blurry and so, swift as he could, he made for the Crystal Tower. As he approached the steps, however, he slowed to a stop, and put a hand up to his head. The light was giving him a splitting headache, and he wanted to at least be in enough of a command of his faculties to give a good account of himself to whomever the Exarch had summoned. Perhaps… Perhaps he should have just stayed in his room.

Ugan grit his teeth.

No. No, he was not some sniveling coward who needed to hide from the light. He was not so weak as that. He would persevere. He would endure. He would triumph, damn it all, or he would be destroyed. He sent a pulse of curative aether through himself to steel against the pain, and opened his eyes fully to gaze up at the tower. The light was blinding… but he already knew that.

He took a step towards the stairs.

Before he even began his ascent, the doors of the tower opened, and he could hear shouting from within. The guard who was manning the portal blanched and looked behind him, and was met with a snarl as a young elven girl stomped out of the tower, followed casually by a fit Miqo'te man and solemnly by an enormous Au Ra. They were all dressed in simple robes - provided by the Exarch, no doubt.

Alisaie, Salem, and the Brute. 

Ugan grimaced.

The Exarch really had summoned all the Scions and Personnel, before he summoned the Warrior. Who was next? Tataru?

Though Alisaie’s face was a freshly tear-free mask of anger, it fell away for a moment as the three of them stopped outside the doors of the Crystal Tower and stared up at the sky. Ugan remembered well the first time he had seen it. He had been filled with the same sort of placid dread they undoubtedly felt now. One by one, they looked away from the light, and at each other, a mixture of concern and resolve plain on their faces.

They began talking amongst themselves - out of earshot for now, and Ugan just folded his arms and waited at the bottom of the steps. They would need to be taken to Honey, or at least put in contact with her, so that she could outfit them appropriately. She had been planning for such an eventuality, and…

Ugan met Alisaie’s eye, and she froze halfway down the steps. Salem and Brute, who had been speaking with each other, looked askance at the young woman before following her gaze.

The three watched him for a heartbeat, before he nodded once.

At the gesture, Alisaie broke into a sprint down the steps - reckless - and Ugan almost felt the need to take a step back in alarm. She flew towards him, several steps taken almost in leaps, and crashed into him almost at full speed, wrapping her arms around him and crushing her face into the silk of his shirt. So taken aback was he by the sudden assault of affection that he simply stared down at her with his arms slightly raised.

“You’re alive…!” She exclaimed, shaking her head - which mostly succeeded in rubbing tears into his shirt. “I can’t believe… Thank the Twelve...” She sobbed once, and shook, though she appeared to be doing her best to keep it in. Salem and Brute followed behind her quietly. Salem gave Ugan a sidelong smile, while Brute appeared to be regarding him with sympathy.

Perhaps it was fatigue. Perhaps it was the light. But Ugan could not bring himself to reprimand the young woman. Even though she was acting… Well. She was acting as expected. He placed both his hands on her shoulders.

“I am not so easily slain.” He told her, voice low. He pulled her off of him gently, and she gazed up at him, lip wavering, eyes watery, but expression resolute. “There is no need to grieve for a living man. There is yet work to do.” She nodded once, drying her eyes, and offered him a shaky, but confident, smile. 

“I can’t believe Ugan let you hug him.” Salem commented, putting his hands behind his head in an affected stretch. Alisaie went a little pink in the face, but held her ground regardless. When Ugan shot him a look, he just winked, and laughed. “Say… that Exarch fellow said you’d been around a while. Had a peek under his hood?” Salem changed the subject idly, and, while this was the first time Ugan had fielded such a question, he knew better than to answer truthfully.

“No.” He lied flatly. “I care not.”

“It speaks ill of the man that he hides his face.” Alisaie grumbled, folding her arms. “I’m famished, in any case, and…” She took a deep breath. “I need to talk to Honey, about Berry. And see my brother.” She paused, frowning. “And Urianger.”

“All in good time.” He pointed past the plaza, towards the Wandering Stairs. “The Exarch will undoubtedly set rooms aside for you in the Pendants, though if its a meal you’re after, see Glynard or Cyella at the Wandering Stairs, and tell them I’m covering the bill.”

“You aren’t coming with us?” Alisaie asked immediately, crestfallen. Ugan held up his hand to calm her.

“In due time.” He glanced at the Tower. That the Exarch would attempt a summoning so soon… Someone needed to make sure the man was still breathing. “I have words for the Exarch.”

“Alisaie already gave him an earful.” Salem sang lazily.. “Can’t say I blame her - you should’ve seen what we were in the middle of when…” He trailed off, eyes flicking to Brute, who had thus far been silent and contemplative.

They explained, in what passing detail they could, what had transpired on the Source since last Ugan had heard. War. Zenos. A meeting with Varis that Berry had practically stormed out of. A pitched battle at Ghimlyt, and then…

Well. Then they had ended up here.

Ugan bade them go to the Stairs, and began to make his way up to the tower, when Alisaie grabbed his hand. His nerves, shattered as they were, held on to their last, frayed ends for just long enough to prevent him from jerking out of her grip. Instead, he managed to glance back at her and keep his face neutral. She seemed torn between indignation, embarrassment, and pleading, and it made her seem so… vulnerable.

Vulnerable in a way Ugan was not used to relating to.

“...Don’t take long.” She whispered, and for a mercy, Salem and Brute seemed intent to allow her this moment, as they had already begun towards the eatery. “I…” And it seemed she had run out of words. A failing her brother never seemed to share. Ugan could fill in the blanks well enough. She was afraid. She did not want to be alone. She did not want to lose him again. Predictable, and what was more, ridiculous. Such concerns would blunt her effectiveness in the trials to come, and burden him. And yet…

He steeled himself.

“I will join you shortly.” Ugan assured her tersely, and pulled away. He strode up the steps towards the tower without looking back.

The guard, it seemed, knew better than to do anything other than level him with a perfunctory glare, which Ugan ignored. As he made his way through the tower and towards the Ocular, he felt… tilted. Everything within the tower seemed ever so slightly askew. He wondered what state the Exarch was in to have such an effect on the tower.

He found out shortly, as the man had collapsed against the wall of the Ocular on his way to the Umbilicus.

Ugan gazed at his prone form, which did not react to his entrance, before striding over to the man and turning him on his back. Unconscious. Frowning, Ugan scooped the man up, opened the door to the Umbilicus with his foot, and unceremoniously dumped the Exarch in his cushioned chair. That seemed to startle him awake, and he groaned, sinking deeper into his seat.

Wordlessly, Ugan channeled soothing aether into the man’s body, though it seemed to do little to ease his suffering.

“Ugan…?” He muttered, and then sighed heavily. “...Come again at my lowest point…” Ugan had little patience for the man’s moping, and so drew his staff, planted it on the ground, and began channeling aether into it. The Exarch did no more than glance in his direction as he did so, and shortly after, Ugan was practically drenching him in restorative aether.

At last, he let out a small sigh, and sat up a little straighter. Not before Ugan had depleted most of his native aether, however.

“...I would have recovered in time.” The Exarch murmured, strangely petulant.

“An odd way to thank me.” Ugan bit back, breathing heavily from the exertion. “It was foolish to attempt a second summoning so soon.”

“Even I am not above the failing of impatience.” The Exarch snapped. Despite his exhaustion, Ugan lurched forward, and grabbed the Exarch by the front of his robe.

“You are not welcome to any ‘failings’!’” Ugan hissed, drawing the man towards him. “Your duty is _singular_. Your purpose is _clear_. You will not give in to such petty mortal foibles as impatience and frustration!” Ugan released him roughly, and stalked towards the door. He took a deep breath, though he could feel the Exarch heated gaze upon his back. “You need something to guide your hand. A… beacon. Or some such. Surely the vaunted mysteries of Allag contain such a device?”

The Exarch said nothing. Ugan rolled his eyes.

“Keep your peace, then.” Ugan growled. “Though perhaps enlist the help of our newly conjured Brute. I daresay he would appreciate keeping busy.”

Ugan opened the door of the Umbilicus with more force than was necessary, and began to stalk away.

“I wonder how much of your anger is for me.” The Exarch called after him, voice strangely calm. “And how much of your anger is for yourself.”

Ugan froze with his back turned, hackles up.

“Do not presume to know me.” He spat. The Exarch hummed.

“I rarely presume.” He replied, voice… thoughtful. Reflective. Not at all angry, despite Ugan’s chiding. It made his blood boil. “My thanks for your attention.” Ugan just nodded mutely, and began away once more. As he reached the door leading out of the Ocular, the Exarch called out one last time. “Give Mistress Alisaie my regards and apologies.”

Before Ugan could respond to that, the door to the Umbilicus swung shut, and the door out swung open.

Seething, Ugan left the tower.

He half considered leaving the Crystarium without telling Alisaie out of spite for the Exarch.

Such a thing would be more petty and fallible than even that childish conversation he had just taken part in.

Discontent, frustration, anger, fear… all these boiled within him like a concoction most foul. He had been more volatile of late, that was for sure. The reason for it could only be attributed to the blasted light. It was wearing him down, thinning his nerves and patience both.

What, then, would it do when it was inside him?

Ugan made for the Wandering Stairs.

He arrived just in time to witness a touching reunion between brother and sister. Only Honey glanced in his direction as he approached the tables the present Personnel had claimed as their own. Undoubtedly, Honey had felt the disturbance in the aether as well, and had reacted accordingly. She seemed not at all perturbed by the presence of their comrades, and indeed, seemed little the worse for wear at all, considering it had been some time since last he had seen her. The Brute and Salem were occupied stuffing their faces, and they seemed content, at least, to allow the tears of relief that flowed between the two young elezen to go unnoticed.

Ugan took up a standing position next to Honey, leaning on the railing that surrounded the Stairs.

“Salem mentioned you were speaking with the Exarch.” Honey murmured, though the Miqo’te in question’s ears perked in their direction at the sound of his name. “I imagine we have similar… opinions about his recklessness, so I shall forestall berating him for another time.”

“Please, avail yourself of all future opportunities.” Ugan grumbled. “I grow tired of coddling him.”

“Is that what you call it?” Honey remarked, folding her hands on the table. “You underestimate him at your own peril, Ugan.”

“I do not believe I can be in any more peril than I already am.” Ugan told her dismissively. If Honey had anything to say to that, it was cut short by Alisaie plopping into a chair in front of the both of them, followed shortly by Alphinaud, who hovered rather awkwardly at her shoulder. Alisaie grinned up at him, and promptly began loading a plate with food. Some sort of sausage and whatever passed for popotoes here. Ugan was vaguely aware of Alphinaud trying to catch his eye, and he let the little diplomat try in vain for a few moments longer before turning his attention to him.

“It occurs to me I owe you… something of an apology.” He began with a nod, and that immediately piqued Ugan’s interest. Alphinaud’s distaste for him perfectly mirrored Alisaie’s admiration - and both were well-documented and often voiced. What was this about, then? “That is to say… Honey informed me of your state upon the Source. When I met you in the Crystal Tower upon my arrival here, I was… hostile. Unjustly so. Had I known…” He shook his head, folding his arms. “But, that does not excuse my behavior. I beg your forgiveness.”

Alphinaud was begging, was he? Too rich.

Ugan glanced down at Alisaie, who was watching him with unabashed interest. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she returned the expression. He rolled his shoulder in something of a shrug, then, and gave Alphinaud a bored look.

“No need to grovel, young Leveilleur.” Ugan told him. “Assuage your conscience if you must - you’ve not offended me.”

“Ugh.” Alisaied groaned around a mouthful of popoto. “I was hoping you’d bite his head off.” She pinched her thumb and forefinger together. “Just a little.”

“I would never do that.” Ugan replied drily. “That’s where all his useful bits are.”

Alisaie nearly choked on her meal from laughter, even as Alphinaud’s face went red with indignation. For a grace, however, even Honey covered her mouth, and Salem and Brute just laughed out loud. This prompted Alphinaud to sigh, and take the jest in good humor.

Ugan found himself smiling.

Before he could dwell on that, a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Cyella was surreptitiously whisking away a platter emptied by Salem and Brute, clearly intent on avoiding his notice. Having failed, she simply locked eyes with him neutrally for a moment before showing him her back and returning to the bar. Ugan watched her go, arms still folded, brow furrowed in discontent. She wore the mask of a simple barmaid very well. Practice as a barmaid, or practice wearing masks…? She was as much a mystery to him now as she had ever been - and their previous conversation had only deepened that mystery.

The sound of conversation dying around him caused him to blink once, and look about.

Salem had his hand on his chin, a smug, knowing look on his face. Brute seemed concerned, and the twins were exchanging perplexed glances. Honey, from her spot beside him, was watching him with incredible interest, but nothing else indicated her thoughts or mood.

“...What.” He demanded flatly. Alisaie returned promptly to her food, and Alphinuad seemed at a loss for what to say. Salem, however, was more than happy to break the silence.

“I didn’t think barmaids were your type.” He accused salaciously. Ugan returned the accusation with an unimpressed stare.

“What did you think my type was?” He responded neutrally, giving the man no ground upon which to tread. That was the way with Salem - if you gave him an ilm, he would run for a malm. Regardless how silly or tiresome the jest. Salem shrugged, though his eyes were still sparkling.

“Dunno.” He turned fully around to stare at Cyella, who was, for a blessing, facing away from their table. “Tall, dark, light of hair? Well, if that’s the case I suppose Urianger counts...” As Salem spoke, Ugan noticed Alphinaud glancing meaningfully down at his sister. Whatever their silent conversation was about, it earned him a swift elbow into his gut.

“You must find yourself terribly clever.” Ugan replied sardonically, ignoring the wheezing Elezen boy. “If you must know, I have had a handful of strange echo visions regarding that woman. She is reluctant to discuss them with me, and so I have been left vexed as to the Mothercrystal’s design regarding her.” Ugan waved his hand idly as he told the truth of it, though Salem still gave him a skeptical look.

“That’s boring.” Salem pouted, leaning his elbow on the table. 

“Yes, I can see how goddess-given prophetic insight into the pasts of certain individuals would pale in interest to any supposed romantic escapades on my part.” Ugan’s tone brooked no argument that he absolutely did not feel that way. 

“This is the first I’m hearing of this.” Honey pointed out. Ugan knew she disliked being informed of potentially important things late. Especially as they related to the Echo or the Warrior of Light, as both subjects equally fascinated and frustrated her. Her primary goal in life seemed to be to acquire as much knowledge and wealth as possible, with either being used as a catalyst to generate the other.

“Had it not been brought up, I would have postponed telling you further.” Ugan asserted. “As with all things regarding the Mothercrystal, it’s importance will be made clear when necessary and not before.”

“Hm.” Honey seemed content to drop the conversation at that, turning her attention to the mostly recovered Alphinaud. “We have forestalled our departure long enough. If we are to set up a network in Kholusia, we have no time to waste.”

“Network?” Alisaie asked, wrinkling her nose. “Diplomat work. As good as it has been to see you, brother, I don’t know if I can stomach that.”

“Well, I was going to extend the invitation, but if you feel so disinclined…” Alphinaud trailed off. “What would you do instead?” Alisaie hummed, drumming her fingers on the round wooden table.

“These… Sin Eaters.” She began, eyes closed. “It would do to know more about them, no? Specifically, how to defeat them. My skills lie in that area at any rate.”

“In that case, you had best shadow Ugan.” Honey chimed in, hopping off of her chair. Ugan frowned down at the Lalafell woman, who was content to ignore him. “He’s slain more Eaters than some of the most seasoned hunters, and he’s been doing it half as long.” If Honey made a suggestion it was more like a decree. Alisaie grinned up at Ugan, and he resigned himself to watching over her for the foreseeable future. 

It would probably not be so bad.

“No doubt you’ve been remiss in your training since we’ve been apart.” Ugan noted, and she favored him with a flat look of indignation.

“I’ve had to make up for the lack of you all, so no, I have not been remiss!” She insisted petulantly. Ugan felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips.

“We’ll see.” He murmured.

“What about us?” Salem interjected, leaning back in his chair. Honey looked at him blankly, then shrugged.

“Find something to do.” She ordered simply. Salem pouted, though Brute barked a laugh and kept eating. “Alphinaud, see to it that we can secure passage via amaro. Alisaie, you’ll need something more proper if you’re to be gallivanting about slaying Eaters. Both of you go to the Mean, Ugan and I will rendezvous with you shortly.” The Twins hopped to do as they were told, with Alisaie asking her brother what the “Mean” was as he led her away. Ugan watched after them for a moment before looking down at Honey, who had simply begun to walk off, no doubt intending for him to follow.

So, he did. She was demanding, maybe, but at least she was decisive. 

To his surprise, he led him onto the garden lawns surrounding the Pendants, and then to a secluded, shaded corner, past a group of playing children. The air here was cool, and there was enough reprieve from the constant light that the pain echoing in the back of Ugan’s head ever since he had reemerged lessened slightly.

“I’ve heard you’ve been volatile of late.” Honey said, leaning against a nearby tree and folding her arms. Ugan snorted.

“From whom?” He made a show of checking their surroundings, but in truth, he just did not want to look at his… handler. For that was what it felt like, most of the time. Honey, for lack of a better term, was in charge of him. Like any thaumaturge would be over a voidsent they summoned.

Though she had not summoned him, she had still claimed responsibility from their first encounter.

“Urianger.” Honey held up a finger, then another, and a third. “Y’shtola. The Exarch.” 

“You and ‘Master Matoya’ are back on speaking terms, then?”

“No deflection.” She insisted immediately. For a Lalafell, she held an air of immediate authority that was difficult to argue with. Salem had once made a joke that she and Ugan were having a contest to see who could smile the least, and set up a betting pool as to who would break first.

Ugan had lost. 

“The light has been affecting you.” It was an observation on her part, not a question. “Describe the effect it is having on you.”

“I am fine.” Ugan bit out, still not looking at her.

“I did not ask after your well-being, I told you to tell me what is happening to you.” She marched forward and grabbed the hem of his cloak, tugging once. Ugan clenched his teeth, and she tugged against, insistent. Gingerly, Ugan knelt down so that they were eye level, and met her gaze. As usual, it was intense, interrogative, and unyielding. “If this world destabilizes you, I would know in what way you are going to be torn apart.”

“For research?” Ugan muttered.

“To prevent it.” She told him. “Now, tell me.”

Ugan considered defying her again. There was nothing… Nothing to tell. It was not as though his soul was unravelling. It was not as though it was something he could not handle. It was just…

“...Imagine, if you will, your skin - freshly burned from spending too much time exposed to the sun - and placed upon it is thick clothing made of burlap. Even so covered, your flesh blisters and peels anew, as though you wore nothing at all.” Ugan described the sensation in monotone, before taking in a deep breath. “Then imagine this sensation, but upon your very essence. Imagine again there was no escape from it, no matter where you went, no matter what you did.” He exhaled, and realized he was looking down, having shied from her gaze once more. “It drains me. It causes me to act irrationally. It makes me feel…” He trailed off. “It is trying. But I am in control.”

“I harbored no doubts about that.” Honey told him. “You need not shoulder this burden alone - this very world is anathema to your existence. And what you have yet to do…” She shook her head. “I will speak to the Exarch to see if there is a way to shield you from the worst of it.”

“I’d rather not be in his debt.” Ugan growled. Honey patted him on the shoulder, and gave him a sympathetic look.

“Too bad.” She shoved him, indicating that he was allowed to stand once more. “I know you’re a terribly important voidsent, and we mortals are all beneath you, but for what it’s worth…” She tapped her chin, and then afforded him a small smile. “I quite enjoy seeing you act a tad more mortal.”

Ugan clicked his tongue in disgust, and turned away from her. In the distance, the sound of children playing made a strange backdrop for his foul mood.

“Foolishness.” He admonished, lacking any better retort.

“There’s a lot of that going around.” Honey agreed, and began trotting off. “We’d best not keep the twins waiting.”

Disgruntled, prickly, and yet somehow more at ease, Ugan followed after her. There was yet more work to do, and Ugan felt they were running out of time to do it. It would not be much longer before the Warrior of Light arrived, and then they would begin the operation to save this world in earnest.

And at that time, there would be no more forestalling his fate - whatever it was going to be.


	12. Abaddon

Inevitably, Ugan found himself spending a great deal of time in Ahm Araeng.

The Mord were accommodating enough, and the heat reminded him of Ul’dah, which was enough familiarity to bring him comfort. After ascertaining that Alisaie had not, in fact, been remiss in her training - and had improved a great deal, even - Ugan left her to her own investigations, though she often used him as a touchpoint for the other Scions. She preoccupied herself mostly with guarding caravans from Sin Eaters, and made a name for herself as a capable mercenary.

Meanwhile, Cerigg had managed to acquire his mannikin. He called upon Ugan, then, to join him in the hunt for the Cardinal Virture, and of course, Ugan obliged.

Finding Phronesis was not difficult - Ugan had sighted the Virtue in his time here on a handful of occasions - the trick, Cerigg claimed, was knowing how close they could get to one of Phronesis’ ‘hollows’ without getting pulled in. As they watched from a distance, the Sin Eater in the shape of a long vanquished magus reared back, and opened a voidgate.

Ugan felt the call of his home, even from this distance. The cool, refreshing, invigorating darkness. It reached for him. Tugged upon the depths of his being. Promised him respite from the never-ending light.

The Blessing of Light rooted him in place.

Eventually, Phronesis departed, leaving the hollow behind. Cerigg promptly sent the mannikin towards the hollow, and they watched carefully as it approached, inching closer… Then, its feet began to slide against the sand, and all at once, the darkness consumed it. Cerigg made a celebratory noise, indicating the marks on the ground.

“Now we know exactly how close we can get.” He crowed, hopping over the ridge they had been hiding behind and waving Ugan forward. “Let’s get a closer look.”

It took all of his considerable willpower not to sprint towards the hollow as fast as he could. While engaged with the act of walking, Ugan lamented the… precision with which the Blessing of Light could compel him. Berry had confessed to hearing Hydaelyn speak on a number of occasions, though Ugan had not heard her voice since the fateful day he had been bound to Her. Instead, his Echo and the blessing he… ‘enjoyed’, seemed purpose made to prevent him from defying Hydaelyn’s will, and did so with such alarming frequency and purpose that he had long ago concluded it must utilize some latent form of the Echo in order to anticipate his actions before he committed to them.

Such as now. Without even trying, he knew his feet would be planted firmly far enough away from the hollow to prevent him flinging himself within it and finding a much needed respite from the harsh light of the First. So instead, he pretended to be interested in what Cerigg had to say as he inspected the hollow from a safe distance. The bounty hunter shortly asked for his input.

“...’Tis Void magic.” Ugan explained, frowning. Cerigg was ignorant to the tumultuous thoughts that roiled within him, but he was not immune to the bad mood it afflicted him with. “A hole in space and time. But… purposeless. Like someone built a window that faces a cliffside.” He shrugged. “Although as a weapon, it seems perfectly…”

“Let me out… it’s so... dark in here…”

Ugan blanched as a voice echoed out from the hollow.

“Hm?” Cerigg gave him a curious look. “Why the pale face, friend? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Ugan stared askance at the portal, suspicious. Was this some sort of Voidsent trick…? The size of the hollow belied letting through a creature of any significant power - certainly no threat to him - but…

“I heard a voice, calling from within.” Ugan explained, not taking his eyes off the hollow.

“From inside the hollow? But that’s impossible!” Cerigg eyed the hollow as though it would shortly leap forward and swallow him up. Ugan admired his sense of self-preservation.

“Is anyone… out there? Please, help me… Help me get out of here!”

A boy’s voice. Young, certainly. If it was genuine, then how…?

“Follow the sound of my voice!” Ugan called towards the hollow. How would it react…?

“Was that a voice? Is someone out there!? If you can hear me, please… you must help me!” If it was an act, it was certainly convincing. The boy sounded near hysterical. “I can’t see anything. No road, no trees… Not even an aether current to follow… Which way do I go? How do I get out of this place?”

“This voice… what in the gods’ name is it saying?” Cerigg demanded. Ugan offered a brief explanation, though he did so off-handedly. When he mentioned it appeared to have the voice of a child, Cerigg’s concerned turned to steely determination. “Is there some way you can channel your aether into the void? To act as a beacon of sorts to guide the child back to us?”

“I could.” Ugan stated. “Though there is no guarantee this entity is a boy, and not something more… sinister.”

“I’ll take the chance on sinister if it means we can save someone who’s been swallowed by these damn things.” Cerigg readied his bow, and gave Ugan a nod. “Do it.” So much for his impressive sense of self-preservation. Still, there was something to be said of courage.

As he was bid, Ugan raised his hand, and a lance of silvery aether shot out from his hand and into the hollow. It was little more than a direction of his will, anchored within his from, but it would get the job done. Even so, Cerigg seemed suitably impressed.

Shortly, he felt something latch onto it, and he clenched his teeth.

Though to his astonishment, what emerged from the hollow was, indeed, a boy. An elven child, little more than an adolescent, and wearing a plain, blue robe. He floated forward out of the hollow, his body slack, and promptly collapsed upon the desert floor, unconscious.

The hollow winked out of existence behind him.

Cerigg abandoned his position, put up his bow, and ran to the boy’s side. Ugan allowed himself a moment to lament the disappearance of the hollow, and then followed suit.

“Is he…?” Cerigg asked, the question hanging tentatively in the air. Ugan placed his gloved palm upon the boy’s head, then neck, feeling his aether rather than his flesh.

“Alive.” Ugan confirmed. “Though weak in aether and body.” Astonishing. That a mortal - and a boy, no less - should survive an unsupervised trip into the void… What had happened? How long had he been in there? They would get no answers until he awoke.

“Well. We’d best get him back to Mord Souq, and into a warm bed.” Cerigg said, and hoisted the boy onto his back. Ugan just nodded, and followed him back. Cerigg spoke about all the questions the boy’s appearance raised, and Ugan was pleased to discover the man shared many of his ideas. Not magically talented, but curious and investigative. Ugan found himself once more appreciative of his competence.

Finding a place for the boy was simple enough, though they had agreed to keep the exact nature of their discovery of the boy to themselves. Cerigg committed himself to watching over the lad, something that appeared to make him nervous, and also informed Ugan that he would see if someone matching his description had gone missing in the area recently. If they could get to the bottom of what happened to the boy, Cerigg reasoned, they might be able to get a leg up on Phronesis. Ugan was in agreement, and pleased Cerigg was willing to shoulder the burden of babysitting the child. It freed him from the burden of it.

He informed Cerigg that he would keep an eye on Phronesis, as he was to be in Ahm Araeng for the time being, regardless. Thusly, they parted ways.

And so, he filled his days exterminating Eaters roused by Phronesis’ passing, investigating that strange wall of light with Alisaie, and doing anything that would take his mind off of the light-blasted rawness of his own soul. In this regard, Alisiae was an excellent balm. After only a month in Ahm Araeng, she returned to Mord Souq with a smirk and a story she had been told by a certain flaxen-haired maiden who worked as a carer at the Inn at Journey’s Head. Ugan confirmed the details, and Alisaie laughed about the reverence with which Tesleen had referred to him. She said the topic had come up because her magic was so similar to his, and she had proudly told Tesleen she was none other than Ugan’s student.

“Proud of that, are you?” Ugan pointed out flatly. Her ears went a bit pink at the tip, but she otherwise held her ground.

“Who wouldn’t be?” She replied dismissively, though it was clearly affected.

Tesleen had asked Alisaie to stay at the Inn, and so she quickly became a fixation there. She told Ugan her interest was mostly academic, as she could study the transformation from man to Eater, though he had some suspicions about the sort of things she was actually ‘studying’. 

Still, she did occasionally have interesting insights. Ugan found himself visiting infrequently, when she had something she wished to discuss.

“The problem is these Lightwardens.” Alisaie vented one day as they sat beneath the shade of the stones that made up the Inn. “If they could be destroyed or… contained in some way, the sky would…” She shook her head. “But there’s story after story of their corruption passing on to another. Even with Berry…”

Ugan had kept many secrets from many people. Alisaie did not even know he was a voidsent. This secret rankled him no more than the others - the Exarch’s plan, it seemed, hinged upon Berry’s partial ignorance, and the partial ignorance of many of the Scions, besides. Alisaie would undoubtedly raise unholy hell if she knew what they planned. She had a tendency to be protective.

“Nothing is impossible.” Ugan said eventually. “We will find a way forward.”

Alisaie smiled at him fondly.

“Yes, I suppose we will.”

Another thing that occupied a small portion of his time were infrequent letters from Minfilia, always brought by an energetic galdjent merchant named Cassard, courtesy of the Exarch. Ugan was consistently surprised whenever one arrived, thinking that, eventually, the girl would grow tired of his dry observations and terse wit. If he stopped responding, he had no doubt she and Thancred would appear upon the doorstep of the Mord hut he had come to stay in, and so it was expedient to respond. She often appeared to be confiding in him her thoughts and fears, telling him how she was unsure how she stood with Thancred, that he could be all at once friendly and closed-off. She told him how exciting seeing all of Norvrandt was, and what pleasant company Urianger made.

That was a head-scratcher. Urianger’s company was about as pleasant as inhaled sawdust, on the best days.

Ugan usually wrote back with observations of Thancred’s behavior, advising patience, and commentary regarding what she had told him of her travels. Then, he would give a short account regarding what he or Alisaie had discovered about Sin Eaters since last he wrote. He left out anything particularly graphic or violent, as though he did not believe Thancred was vetting these letters, he would rather not have to deal with the man’s disapproving glares whenever they were reunited.

Still, they were hunted. Thancred was a master of stealth and evasion, even while in charge of a young woman. She did not appear to want for much, and while they never lingered in any settlements, she expressed contentment that, whenever they did pass through one, she was able to make small differences in people’s lives. She wondered if this was what being an adventurer was like, on the world Thancred was from.

Ugan told her it was more tiresome than that.

He was not given to sentiment, so he did not keep the letters. Better that he did not have a trail to be traced back to the fugitive Oracle regardless.

Ugan stayed apprised of the Personnel’s endeavors via linkpearl, with Honey checking in frequently to report upon the progress of an aetheric beacon they could use to ensnare Berry. It seemed Brute was quite taken with the design, though it was with only a small feeling of satisfaction that he noted the Exarch had taken his advice. Thinking on their last conversation still occasionally angered him, and the less he had to think of the man, the better.

Honey and Alphinaud had also met with limited success regarding Eulmore. It seemed that, though they had succeeded in setting up a network of sorts outside the city, infiltrating the city itself was another, tricky matter entirely. The complexities of the problem eluded him, but if even Honey had been unable to gain entry after all this time, he could be assured the problem was indeed real. 

He was glad he did not have to deal with it.

Time stretched on. The boy they had retrieved from the hollow awoke, and introduced himself as Taynor. What was more, he was amnesiac. Perhaps he would have stayed that way, too, but it was not to be. The Echo revealed his past to Ugan, and they learned that he was displaced a hundred years by his time in the void. Not entirely unsurprising, truth be told, given the fickle nature of space and time within the rift. He was an earnest lad, with a ‘good heart’, as Cerigg was fond of saying. Not to mention he was one of the most naturally gifted mages Ugan had ever seen - given time and practice, he had the potential to rival Honey. Cerigg became convinced the boy was the key to defeating Phronesis, as he could close the hollows, and Ugan agreed.

Taynor seemed pleased to be of use, at the very least, but it would be some time before he would be ready to face the Cardinal Virtue in combat. Ugan oversaw his training, and he wondered if it was going to be his lot to teach promising young magi how best to wield the arcane, over and over again, ad nauseum. 

It was what it was. 

One day, while they were training, they were beset by Phronesis. The attack was sudden, as though the Eater had simply appeared in their midst, and Cerigg had almost gotten pulled into a hollow. Quick thinking on Taynor’s part had spared his life, and as Ugan prepared to strike down the eater, he was struck by an Echo vision.

It was informative, and gave interesting insight into Nyelbert’s past and the motivations of the Cardinal Virtue. Had the vision only contained the wayward ‘Warriors of Darkness’ and a touching scene regarding Nyelbert’s sacrifice, he would have swiftly chalked it up as only pertinent to the matter at hand. And when he awoke, Cerigg had questions about the vision that Ugan answered to the best of his ability. Taynor seemed to regain his resolve, and Ugan begged the two of them off by feigning exhaustion. He left Cerigg in charge of Taynor’s training for the time being, and returned to his hut in Mord Souq to think.

For the vision had contained not only Nyelbert, not only Lamitt, not only Ardbert… but an elven woman whom they called Cylva as well. 

An elven woman who bore a striking - nearly exact - resemblance to a certain barmaid in the Crystarium.

But… how? Why? Nothing about what he had seen previously of her had indicated that she had anything to do with the Warriors of Light of the First, and now… He paced around the small hut, mind spinning. Here was his first real, tangible proof that she was hiding something. And more importantly, that she was hiding something significant.

Though if he confronted her, he would doubtlessly face the same scorn he had been shown before.

Infuriating.

He knew he was being compelled by the Mothercrystal to look into this matter. He knew it was a matter of import, simply because the Echo had shown it to him. Now, it seemed additionally pertinent. If she had information on the Warriors of Light, she may have information on the Flood, and the creation of Sin Eaters, and…

He would have to speak with her again.

So, he made for the Crystarium.

Travel via aetheryte no longer exacerbated the symptoms that the light afflicted him with. Since his existence now caused him a base level of pain at all times, exposing his soul to the raw aether of the First did little more than irritate his already aggrieved essence. He checked the time of day when he arrived - mid-afternoon. It had been some months since last he had spoken with Cyella, and there was no guarantee he would even find her at the Wandering Stairs. Still, that was where he had seen her last, and so, it was where he would go.

To his muted surprise, she was not actually present at the Stairs. Frustrating. He strode up to Glynard, who was… organizing triple triad cards on the bar. Who had taught him Triple Triad? Thancred? Honey? Bah, he would be hearing mortals complain about losing to a ‘combo’ for the rest of his time here. He put it from his mind.

“Glynard.” Ugan spoke to get the man’s attention, and the galdjent glanced up at him with a blink and a quick nod.

“Sinner.” He greeted. “Word is you’ve been about Ahm Araeng. Routes are safer for it.” Ugan waved his hand dismissively.

“I’m not here for rumors - especially about me.” He said, skipping straight to the point. Glynard simply took it in stride, and tilted his head as an indication that Ugan should continue. “I wish to speak with Cyella.”

“Bad time for it.” Glynard informed him. “She’s off today. Works hard, she does, so I have to insist she take some time for herself.” He gave Ugan an appraising look, folding his arms, but otherwise said nothing else.

“How can I find her?” Ugan asked immediately, and Glynard raised his hand in warning.

“I’m not in the business of sending men after my employees, especially when they’re off the clock.” He stated, voice firm. “If you don’t know where to find her, I’d just as soon assume she does not want to be found by you.”

“It is a matter of import.” Ugan insisted, trying to remain calm. Glynard’s chivalry was commendable - from a mortal perspective - but right now he had not the patience for it. 

“Maybe so.” Glynard agreed. “But I won’t budge.” Ugan felt his face contort into a sneer, and Glynard’s eyes hardened, but before he could do more to accost the man, a curt voice interrupted.

“Thank you, Glynard.” Cyella interjected, striding past Ugan and placing a bundle on the counter. She gave Ugan a small, disdainful look, before returning her attention to the barkeep. “I forgot I had these aprons laundered, pray take them from me. And thank you for defending my right to privacy…” She waved vaguely at Ugan, who folded his arms and clenched his mouth shut. “...but I shall take it from here.”

“As you say, lass.” Glynard took the bundle, gave Ugan a neutral look, and then stepped away from the cards he had been organizing to put the aprons away. Cyella finally turned to look Ugan up and down, lips pursed.

“I-” Ugan began.

“Not here.” Cyella admonished immediately, voice low. “Come.” And she strode away from the bar, and out of the Wandering Stairs. He loathed being ordered around - what gave her the right? - but had no choice but to follow.

As he did, he became increasingly aware of the similarities between her and the woman called Cylva in his vision. She was dressed in a ruffled, white blouse and a pair of fit leather trousers, with boots laced up to almost her knee. The way she walked was alike, the way she held herself was alike… The only way Ugan could be more sure of her identity is if he tossed her a sword and shield and ordered her to fight a minotaur. He scowled as he watched her lead him towards the aetheryte plaza, and then up the wrought iron stairs. This apparently did not escape her notice, though he was not sure how, as she had not even so much as glanced at him.

“Gods forbid, you had better not be leering at me.” She warned, venomous. Ugan clicked his tongue in disgust.

“Please.” He muttered dismissively. Had he an eye for such things, she was certainly a comely woman. As it stood, however, he was not inclined to regard her - or any mortals, for that matter - as attractive. Emotions such as love were behind him, and lust was only as useful was it was exploitable. And Cyella would not be seduced out of her secrets. “You will know the reason for my attention when we get to… where you are taking me.”

She had nothing to say to that, and he shortly found himself alone with her on the iron walkway that overlooked the Universalis markets. She turned on him then, clearly irritated but otherwise schooled neutral, and leaned against the rail of the walkway.

“You’ve sought me out with purpose.” She declared. “Again. Is it to be another interrogation, then?”

“An accusation.” Ugan clarified, taking a position opposite her and matching her stare. “I had an extended encounter with Phronesis in Ahm Araeng.” He explained, but she did not react. “...Wherein I proceeded to have a vision of his past, when he was still the man called Nyelbert.” There was a flash in her eyes, but he was not sure if it was steel, recognition, or anger. So, he continued. “A cave-in had separated him from his companions, and stranded him with… Ah.” There it was, a moment of disbelief, followed immediately by an attempt to mask it. Ugan held her gaze, knowing, until she looked away. “I need not recount the tale to someone who was there, it seems.” He concluded.

“...Will you abandon your hunt for Phronesis?” Cyella murmured, eyes far away, he could see, even if she did not look at him. 

“I have my own reasons for hunting the Virtue.” Ugan told her, though he could not fathom why she would ask him such a question. “Let us stay on topic, however - it was you, in my vision. The warrior, Cylva. Along with Ardbert and Lamitt.”

Cyella sighed deeply, and closed her eyes.

“I do not suppose you would accept such an explanation as…” She waved her hand vaguely in the air. “‘Who you saw was my mother’.”

Ugan did not dignify her answer with a response. When it was clear he was just going to glower silently at her, she grimaced, and faced him with eyes open and resolute.

“Why must you pester me doggedly about this?” She demanded, and Ugan felt rage boil up into his chest. This time, however, he was unsuccessful in containing it.

“Why?” He hissed, disbelieving. “Do you know-” He stepped forward, stopping himself when she flinched into a defensive pose as he did so. Ugan clenched his teeth. “You do not know.” He realized, and took a steadying breath. She did not know. She could not. As far as she was concerned, he was simply a bounty hunter that slew Eaters. And perhaps a personal friend of the Exarch.

Though given her history, he wondered if she might know more.

“Explain yourself.” She murmured, looking as though she might bolt at a moment’s notice.

“...It is the goal of me and my companions to rid this world of the light.” He told her. “Plans are in motion to see it done, and any potential complications, or schemes, or…” He gave her a pointed look. “Strangely long-lived barmaids must needs be dealt with ahead of time.”

“...Just like that?” She asked, and snapped her fingers. “You’ll return darkness to the realm, and save all of Norvrandt?”

“That is the intention.” Ugan replied flatly. She laughed, though it was humorless.

“Greater men than you have tried.”

“I am no man.” Ugan bit out, and was surprised that he was able to do so. Usually, the Blessing of Light prevented him from revealing his nature to the unsuspecting. Well, if he was to be given an ilm… “We shall slay the Wardens, and I shall absorb their light, destroying it and thereby freeing Norvrandt of their tyranny.”

“Oh? Such words.” She raised her hands sardonically, before placing them squarely on her hips. “What makes you believe you can absorb the corruption, when everyone before you has fallen to it?” Ugan flexed his jaw, and considered. Why was he parleying with this woman? If she was a threat, he should cut her down. If she was an asset, he should utilize her as such. Though she was singularly stubborn… He believed she could be won to their cause, as an informant, if nothing else.

Especially if she had truly lived since the time of the flood, for reasons yet unexplained.

Still, the people of the First - fae excluded - did not have a word for Voidsent.

“I am much like a Lightwarden, though opposite in aspect.” Ugan explained, placing a hand on his chest as he did so. “Where I am from, we are called ‘Voidsent’, and…” He trailed off, as Cyella suddenly wore a look as though he had struck her across the jaw.

“...No.” She whispered. Ugan gave her a puzzled, suspicious look.

“...I had not thought knowledge of the voidsent existed upon the First.” He said carefully. “What do you-”

With alarming speed, she rushed forward and grabbed his wrist. He flinched from her sudden movement, but found himself caught in her surprisingly strong grip regardless. Her eyes bored into him, wide, desperate, almost feverish. What had come over her?

“What…What did you call yourself?” She whispered, voice low, and fleeting, as though speaking aloud would make whatever she was seeing in him vanish.

“...Call myself?” Ugan repeated, perturbed.

“In the thirteenth - in the Void. What did you call yourself?” She shook his wrist once, and drew closer to him. Ah, she was asking for his true name. Why did she want to know? He doubted she possessed the required Thaumaturgical knowledge to hinder him in any appreciable capacity. Though she had referred to the Void as the thirteenth… few there were who were aware of the other worlds. Fewer still who knew that the Void had once been among them.

“If I tell you,” Ugan murmured, as she was close enough now to hear him clearly, even speaking so lowly. “You will answer my questions as well. Are we agreed?”

She stared at him, some sort of conflict warring inside of her.

Ugan returned the stare, flat, unyielding.

She nodded once.

“Abaddon.”

There was an extended moment of silence, and something seemed to… break, within Cyella. She let go of his wrist, and her arm fell limply to one side as she stared at him, something betwixt awe and horror plain on her features. She backed away from him slowly, until she collided gently with the opposite railing. The entire time, she stared at him.

“No.” She murmured, covering her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. “No, no. It… It can’t be…” She screwed her eyes tightly shut, and began to weep.

Ugan folded his arms, frowning.

While he was pleased the mere utterance of his true name had been cause enough to make a mortal weep, he had the uncomfortable impression that there was something else behind her tears. Something he did not grasp.

He waited patiently for her to finish.

Eventually, she was able to compose herself, though she did not look at him again.

“...Forgive me.” She muttered. “The Mothercrystal has played a cruel joke on me, it seems, and I was overwhelmed by it.”

“Cruel, perhaps.” Ugan conceded. “Though I have not known Her to have a sense of humor.”

She huffed some sort of laugh. Well. They had an agreement.

“Tell me what you know.” He prompted. Cyella sighed.

“...Much like the others, I was a Warrior of Light.” She began, folding her arms tightly over her stomach. “When the flood of light began, and the Ascians offered us a chance to save the world, we took it. But…” She shook her head. “Something went wrong with my transference, and I was left behind, bereft of body and immortal in soul.”

“I have seen such things before.” Ugan interjected. In fact, this sounded very similar to what had happened to him. Cyella merely nodded, still looking down at the iron walkway.

“I was forced to watch the flood happen, powerless to stop it.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Though it seems my companions were successful in the end. When they began to return as Sin Eaters…” Cyella took a deep, shuddering breath. “I posted a bounty for them on the Hunt Board, and tried my damnedest to find the best people for the job. Gods’ know I can’t help them now, and they deserve to be put to rest.”

...It was a simple enough story.

Ugan wondered if he should be suspicious of it. She had given nothing away from her tone. But… Hm. Well. There was no use squeezing blood from a stone.

“...And these visions I’ve had of you, they are from your past? Before the flood?” Ugan asked. Cyella just nodded. It did seem to add up… and it seemed at this point, she had no reason to lie. “So your interest lies only in the slaying of the Cardinal Virtues, that your friend’s memories may be put to rest?”

“That’s the right of it.” She confirmed. Ugan tapped his fingers against his arm. Then, he straightened.

“Very well. Know that Phronesis, at least, is in capable hands.” He took a step, pausing as he did so. It was not like him to worry about mortal, especially frustrating, stubborn ones who were prone to strange bouts of weeping. But something did not… sit right, about her outburst. Her knowledge of other worlds could be attributed to being a Warrior of Light and bargaining with Ascians. But to react so strongly to his true name… “...Something about what I said reminded you of this man you will not speak of. The one I resemble.”

Typically, Cyella said nothing, eyes downcast.

“Was his name Abaddon?” Ugan pressed.

“...No.” Cyella whispered. “That was not his name, which is why I wept.”

“...I see.” Ugan murmured. With his questions answered and his purpose fulfilled, he turned to leave Cyella to her ruminations. He had taken only a few steps when she called out to him.

“Please…” Ugan did not turn around to look at her. “...Do not seek me out again. I cannot bear the sight of you.”

It was not a promise he could make. Not in good faith, anyway.

“As you say.” He promised regardless, and promptly made for the aetheryte. Behind him, Cyella stared in the opposite direction.


End file.
